


Uncharted: Stained

by Pondermoniums



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, Explicit Sexual Content Eventually, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hallucinations, LGBTQ Character, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sam needs a lady alright, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Video Game Mechanics, age gap, history nerd galore, imposter syndrome, persistent depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pondermoniums/pseuds/Pondermoniums
Summary: “Alea iacta est.”   The dye is cast.  – Julius CaesarAfter Hoysala, Chloe is following another lead - a trail she's been on for a long time. Sam, Nadine, and Sullivan are more than willing to earn their share of the spoils...whatever those riches are.History won't make things easy as figures such as Julius Caesar and the greatest Chinese pirate queen stand in their way, along with an ancient and modern foe: an organization of shadows that calls themselves Phantom. However, history is full of ghosts, and our treasure hunters have their own following them as reality bends and their wits are tested.But someone they meet along the way has their own agenda to complete, and becomes the best ally to their puzzle that they could have hoped for.





	1. Prologue ~ Mail

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY GUILTY PLEASURE STORY AND I WILL MAKE NO APOLOGIES. 
> 
> *cough*
> 
> But seriously, I started this last year, and now am recovering from two weeks of strep throat so ~ *throws confetti and runs away*

Sunlight rushed through the windows to rest on the countertops. Paintings littered the walls beyond the kitchen, both hanging and propped on the floor. Various houseplants glowed green, their fronds in the sunlight as a figure crossed behind the island counter and sifted through the envelopes and magazines. Gravity had pulled the blood into their hands and forearms, making the turquoise veins prominent.

One of the letters stood out, so it is plucked first. More square than rectangular, the stark white envelope is expensive stationary, the return address handwritten on the back. Old fashioned.

Finding the seam of the envelope, the fingertips pulled the paper apart, startling at the spray of indigo powder across the counter. Briefly examining the state of mess, the letter is carefully extracted. Tinged blue from the powder, the fingertips open the similarly smudged pages, reading…and reading some more, statuesque until the thumb pad rubbed against the others, visibly staining more and more aubergine.

The paper drifted to the countertop, resting on the broken envelope and mess of powder. Above it, the hands slowly begin to tremble, deep purple flooding through the flesh while the veins, like black tendrils, entwined around the knuckles.


	2. Sharks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Brazil location isn't meant to be a reference to the games. It's just reminding us of the chaos these people ensue.

“Frazer. If you don’t shut him up. I will.”

Chloe turned jaded eyes on her, Sam’s inebriated voice singing as he watched the world pass by outside of Sullivan’s airplane.

“I don’t got a lot a’rules, but violence outside of my property is one of them,” Victor announced.

“One punch to make him stop, that’s all,” Nadine pleaded.

“Sorry, ladies. To be fair, you shouldn’t have let him into the bar in the first place.”

Nadine looked at Chloe in accusation. Chloe did a double take and then defended, “We needed an inconspicuous place to meet, all right? Between him and his brother, the Drakes are too notorious for their own good. A crowded place is the easiest way to go unseen. I wasn’t the one who poured the booze.”

“If I find out who did, I’m putting him out of business,” Nadine growled to no one.

The man in the co-pilot seat of the plane, however, paused his singing to laugh, “Liquidating bars doesn't strike me as your sort of work. You’d go out of your damn mind with boredom.”

“I’m already there, Drake. Victor, land this plane.”

“Almost there, almost there,” he soothed. “Do I wanna know what the boys did to get themselves banned from southern Brazil?”

“Did you see all the construction?” Chloe reminded. “Speaks for itself. Can’t go anywhere without boys making a mess of things.”

“You’re one to talk,” Nadine accused.

“Break some eggs,” Sam chimed, beer in hand.

“Shut your mouth before I break your teeth on that bottle,” she warned.

Sam looked at Chloe. “Did you forget to feed and water it before we left?”

“HEY HEY, NOT BEFORE WE LAND!” Sullivan bellowed.

It was not the smoothest landing he had pulled off, but water was forgiving, especially when Nadine kicked Sam out of the plane. Sputtering, Sam remarked, “Hey, Sully, this area’s not known for sharks, is it?”

“You tell me, kid,” the man answered. “I think it’s jellyfish season, though.”

“Aw, Christ,” Sam complained as they began swimming to shore and the abandoned cathedral set within the lush cliffs.

“Watch your step,” Victor called behind them. “Wasn’t smart doing this at night.”

“He's talking to you,” Nadine sharpened as they trudged up the beach. “Didn’t know you couldn’t refuse drink like a bee to a flower.”

“Excuse me, but can we talk about the fact that _someone_ was late?” Sam defended. “By three hours! Excuse me for trying to get myself a room for the night.”

“A roommate, more like,” Nadine said.

“I had to seduce somebody with space in their bed, since I only converted enough cash for food, not for emergencies,” he responded. “Frazer being three hours late is a damn emergency. _You_ were already late by an hour, and you have military habits. Where the hell were you?”

“Traffic,” Nadine brushed off.

“Ah, right. Traffic. And you, red tail?”

“I was busy,” Chloe said, jogging up the sand.

Sam gaped between her and Nadine as they followed behind. “Wha—that’s it? If I was that late, both of you would have cut our contract and dumped me in a sewer!”

“We don’t actually have a contract,” Chloe reminded. “Bit of a flawed honor system.”

“So where were you, then?” Sam followed through the underbrush. Critters rushing and slithering around them made him glance under his feet.

“Diverting unwanted attention,” she murmured. “Can we focus, please?”

Now she had Nadine’s suspicion. “I thought we had the jump on this one?”

“We do, and still do, if we get what we need, and quickly.”

“Can I write in our abstract contract to keep details disclosed?” Sam complained as they entered the cathedral. The side of a mountain had been its prime protection over the decades, but facing the Atlantic had not done it any favors. The front half of the structure was completely demolished, leaving a gaping church open to the sea.

“I can agree to that right now,” Nadine remarked as she peered up at the skeletal beams. Water rot had left the wooden bones precarious, but the stone floor, columns, and embellishments were intact. Perhaps at one time the place had been a beaming white house of God, but now it was reclaimed by nature. “Two questions: who are we outrunning and what exactly are we looking for?”

Sam provided the latter as he stepped over mossy grout in the ornate marble, sliding against fluffy foliage growing out of the old pews. “See that cross? Kind of remarkable it hasn’t been plundered with gems like that.”

The ladies gazed up at the cross larger than themselves, standing high on the altar so tall it was in the rafters. “Fake?” Nadine asked.

“No. Cursed,” Sam chuckled. “Gotta love old world superstitions. Let’s get to climbing, shall we? You’re up, Chloe. Who’re we dealin’ with, here?”

“Hah!” she exclaimed as she was already making her way up the mixture of Portuguese and Baroque carvings on the walls. “Mind the marble. It’s slippery up here!”

“Am I being ignored?” Sam asked Nadine as she took her own path upward.

“You’re not coming?” she returned.

“I don’t climb under the influence,” he answered, remaining on the ground. “Too many cooks spoil the soup, anyway. Frazer, any time you wanna chime in, I’m all ears.”

Chloe grunted as she heaved herself over a thick beam. “Rather hard to say, when we’re dealing with phantoms.”

Nadine laughed as she ran along her own rafter and reached the cross first. “Never took you as a superstitious one—”

She stopped and faced Chloe. “Wait. You don’t mean…”

“Oh, I do mean,” her velvety voice replied.

“Louder, ladies! I’m the oldest one here!”

Nadine barked. “Phantom!”

“What is that, a comic book series?” he retorted.

“I think it is, actually,” Chloe agreed as she looked around the cross to inspect it.

Nadine sighed, “Phantom is as good as a myth, but I can’t believe you never heard of it.”

“I was in prison for a while,” Sam disregarded. “What are they, assassins looking for a financial boost?”

“That’s exactly what they are, potentially,” Nadine said as she yanked the sapphire as large as a softball out of the center.

“Potentially? Are you telling me you have no idea who these people are, but they’re on our tail?” Sam remarked.

“They’re more modern than that,” Chloe said. “They have a lot of hands in a lot of pies. Some believe they’re running half the world, commercially and militarily. I reckon the latter is how you heard of them.”

“Ja,” Nadine confirmed. “Got outbid for a client, but never learned by who. Just got a black rose in the mail with a ‘tough luck’ card.”

Chloe guffawed. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious. Whoever they are, they’re assholes with a dark sense of humor.”

“Tough luck wasn’t the only thing in the card, I’m guessing,” Chloe assumed.

“Right. It’s hard to ignore a few million transferred directly to your bank account to keep quiet and out of the way.”

Sam whistled as Chloe fixed her with a stunned look. “Millions? Goodness, you should’ve given up on Shoreline ages ago.”

“I disagree,” she snorted derisively. “I don’t trust anyone who can access my personal accounts without permission or notice. As much as it bruises my dignity to say it: that’s one of the few times someone’s frightened me.”

“I get scared by millions too,” Sam chimed.

“No one asked you,” she hissed.

He raised his hands in defense before he stopped. “Anybody else feel a rumble?”

“You’re the groundling,” Chloe said. “You tell us.”

“I’m not saying anything’s cursed,” he replied, “but you might wanna take another look at the switch you tripped.”

Nadine lifted the sapphire in her hand and turned it over. Embedded in the blue so dark it was like a chunk of crystalized blood, was a gold ring. Inside the cross was definitely a peg that had been lifted with the sapphire’s removal. “Sam, catch!”

“Woah!” he exclaimed with minimal forewarning to catch the heavy stone. His foot slipped as he realized the seams of the walls and floor were gushing with water. “This place is flooding! We gotta go! Shit!”

They froze as the cathedral lit up with a burst of daylight as diesel-fueled roars ricocheted around them. Black boats growled over the sand as military-grade lanterns illuminated the beach and church. Figures clothed in black vaulted over the rigid inflatable hulls—

“AH!” Sam cursed as heat bit his thigh. He heard more bullets whistle over his head before Victor’s firearms from the plane distracted them. “Guard your heads!”

He heard Chloe and Nadine land behind him as he dodged right, aiming for the thinner stretch of beach, but it was not easily reached. Three boats marked the expanse, as well as a fourth farther out, dealing with Sullivan’s plane.

“This isn’t friendly competition,” Sam exclaimed as he gripped a man’s neck within his elbow. He heard the telltale _pop_ as Nadine eliminated two on his right and Chloe disarmed one on his left. Armed, she took down the rest of one boat's crew while Nadine started on the other boat.

“Ladies, I’m injured, and soon we won’t have a pilot!” Sam announced as he made for the water.

“Go!” Nadine agreed.

“Please no sharks. Please no sharks,” Sam prayed as he dived. He grit his teeth as saltwater seeped into his thigh, but he could locate it on the outer part of his leg. First aid stitches should be enough so long as he kept his head on.

Avoiding the lights shining over the water, Sam reached into the boat and pulled two men out before they were aware. The third pointed his gun at him, but Sullivan put his own bullet through his neck, leaving him open to be pulled overboard. Sam heaved himself halfway into the boat as another barrel was pointed at his eye—

He saw Nadine jerk the weapon up as Chloe gripped him in a chokehold. Sam took the dead man’s automatic and finished the rest. “Nice work, ladies. Amazing shot, Victor.”

“Get the hell in here!” Sullivan roared. “More are on their way.”

Sam lumbered into the craft as he looked at the bobbing lights on the horizon. “These Phantom fellas aren’t messing around, huh?”

“Shut the hell up and strap in!” Sullivan ordered as he fell into his cockpit. “I hope you got what you needed in there! ‘Cause this place wasn’t meant to stay above water!”

As the plane began slicing through chop, they looked out of the windows at the cathedral and beach being eaten by the sea. Within seconds, the ocean lapped at the cliffs, and only the boat lamps showed that anyone had been there at all.

“So, uh, Nadine,” Sam began. “What exactly became of that client you didn’t get?”

“What client?”

He turned around to face her. “What—You know the one, you were just telling us you got outbid by these Phantom people.”

“No, that’s just it,” she emphasized. “ _What client._ They disappeared from existence. No record of them anywhere, and it’s bigger than that. They were a member of a royal family who wanted to take their country back, and needed an army to do it. It wasn’t exactly a country of note, but the place had gone under during one of those coups the Americans like to fund. Thing is, overnight the royal family is removed from all living record, the American spies and catalysts go missing, rebel factions are extinguished, and in an instant, power is in the hands of some oligarchy no one’s questioning.”

Victor pieced together, “You’re telling me these guys have top-quality assassins and hackers so good they might as well have governmental clearance? It wasn't their best showcase tonight.”

Chloe intercepted, “Just take it as a freakish stroke of luck that we got the intern soldiers, otherwise we’d be intimate with the sharks right now. Oh, and you’re welcome, even though no one asked if those few minutes of advantage weren’t my doing.”

“We wouldn’t have needed it if you’d been on time,” Sam remarked before he pivoted to ask Sullivan, “So you never heard of Phantoms in the industry?”

“Kid, there are so many shadows, eventually you just keep a match in your pocket and your eye on the prize. Speakin’ of which, did you get anything that could put us on the right track?”

Chloe and Nadine looked at Sam, who revealed the sapphire. The former quipped, “I won’t ask where you kept that.”

“I almost didn’t,” he answered as he revealed the gold ring that was now on his finger. “Sapphires don’t come this big, even for God. Cursed diamonds a tenth of this size have had wars fought for them. It’s a chunk of blue fluorite. Although in my experience, it’s better to keep every piece you get, as it’s likely to be a key to something bigger later on. Here, the ring’s got etchings on it.”

Chloe accepted the keychain flashlight Nadine handed her and examined the design on and within the ring. “French design, but you’re the Catholic, Sam. What’s _‘restitutor orbis’_ mean?”

“You can read that?” Nadine remarked. “It looks like Greek to me.”

Sam took the ring back and examined it. “It’s definitely from a rougher age for jewelry, but… _restitutor orbis_ …restorer of the world. Sounds like an emperor.”

“Humble too,” Chloe commented. “Victor, I don’t suppose you’ve upgraded to onboard internet, have you?”

“You’re gonna have to wait for the hotel for that, but I need to know where I’m headed first.”

“Aim for Europe,” Sam replied.

“You sure?” Victor wondered.

“Yes. The interior of this ring is Roman, but the exterior design is far more modern. Chloe’s right. I’d venture to say as close as the mid-seventeen hundreds. Sun King era. Anybody up for a French getaway?”

“So long as there’s a lot of wine involved,” Nadine decidedly agreed.


	3. American

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the confusion! I accidentally uploaded the next chapter instead of this one u_u
> 
> But behold a chapter full of exposition nonsense that we all have to get through.

“It’s easy to forget how hemispheres work when you’re in the warm one,” Sam complained as he quickly shrugged into his micro-fleece-lined denim jacket.

Nadine went to the front of the cabin to look at Sullivan’s instruments. “London?”

“It’s the only discrete hangar I can land in,” he explained. “The one I use in Normandy is full up.”

“Something happening that we weren’t invited to?” Sam wondered. He nudged Chloe’s arm. She roused from under her blankets. “Welcome to England.”

Victor answered as they dipped below the clouds, “You’d be surprised how many private planes and how few private landing strips there are. I’ll look into it while we recharge here. We can head over tonight unless you’re impatient. Then you’ll be needing a train.”

“That depends on Miss Frazer, here,” Sam said as the plane trembled slightly with turbulence. “Are we racing these phantoms or are we just poking into their territory?”

“Both,” she groaned as she stretched, “but I’d appreciate it if you stopped treating me like an expert on them.”

“How do you know about them?” Nadine inquired as she sat in the co-pilot seat for the landing.

Chloe coughed a laugh. “Slept with one of their soldiers, once, but my taste in men is almost as bad as yours, Ross.”

Sam frowned, “I find it hard to believe that someone from a secret task force would just fill your ear, no matter how good you are. Meaning no offense.”

Chloe huffed a laugh but shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. First, he was bad in bed, and then he stole the loot I’d been working on for months. By the time I tracked him down, he didn’t have my stuff anymore, and no matter now many bullets I put in his legs, his lies put me on a trail of dead ends.”

“When was this?” Nadine asked.

“A couple years before our India venture. Hoysala was a nice reprieve, but I know I was onto something big. It only makes sense to bring on the most stubborn people I know to help out.”

Conversation paused for Victor to land, and then he remarked, “That’s all I keep hearing: something big. How big. No one’s calling Chloe Frazer a coward but insane might be the word if you’re intent on crossing these Phantom people.”

Sam pushed the ring around his pinkie. “If it involves a ‘restorer of the world,’ it’s very big indeed. That could mean the Roman empire, which spanned across Europe, northern Africa, and a little of Asia, or it could mean all of the known world at the time, so the including the Asian continent, Africa, and oceans.”

“My bet’s on the latter,” Chloe revealed. Ears on her, she elaborated, “My loot was a pair of earrings. They belonged to a Chinese concubine, only that concubine grew into the pirate empress of the Asian waters.”

Sam sat up straight. “Ching Shih?”

Nadine scoffed, “Pirates again…”

Chloe answered, “The one and only.” 

“You’re kidding,” he said with disbelief. To Nadine and Victor’s vacant looks, he explained, “Ching Shih was _the_ pirate of Southeast Asia. She was a prostitute who married a pirate, already a formidable captain himself, and when he died, she not only took his place, but she put herself on the map. China sent out a fleet to deal with her and let’s just say that didn’t pan out the way they wanted. She also had a real good relationship with her sons, if I recall. Pretty unusual in a powerful family. You’re telling me you got a pair of her earrings? That woman was as scary as she was admirable.”

Chloe barked a mirthless laugh. “Cheng Shih also had a daughter, but history doesn’t care much for girls. As unfair as it is, it’s also lent us a particular discretion for our own schemes.”

Sam exchanged an intrigued and puzzled look with Nadine. “What did you find?”

Chloe pried her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Photos.”

He navigated the screen and held it for Nadine to see as well: a picture of a torn letter with clear brown and blackish smears of blood.

“What is this?” Nadine queried.

“That,” Chloe informed, “is a letter from one imperial concubine to her mother, Captain Cheng Shih.”

Sam chuckled, “That is a fine hole in the books.”

Chloe agreed, “Cheng Shih is one of the few pirates who retired. And with the havoc she wrought on the Chinese and European fleets, she planted a very good ally in the Chinese bedroom.”

Chloe sat back in her chair, sighing with both grogginess and annoyance. “I got her earrings and that letter…before the bastard stole them from me.”

“Other than Phantom’s connection,” Victor commented, “I don’t see how this leads to ‘something big’.”

Sam considered, “Maybe we’re missing a piece in between then and this,” he held up the ring, “but something’s here.”

“They could be completely unrelated,” Victor argued.

“There are so many holes in history,” Sam defended, “ ‘specially where pirates are concerned. Captain Avery knew how to manipulate it well enough.”

“Frankly, I’m not interested in chasing another Avery,” Victor finished.

Chloe shook her head as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. “It is a shame none of you speak Cantonese.”

“And you do?” Nadine countered dubiously.

“No,” she admitted, “but I don’t wait to find a translator. That letter is the last correspondence she had with her mother. It says she hid something—she doesn’t say what, of course—but was found out, and she was taking matters into her own hands. It’s her suicide note.”

Sam visibly reared back from the picture. “Sheesh.”

“I highly doubt a pair of earrings is worthy enough for an assassination or suicide,” Nadine considered.

“Right,” Chloe nodded, “but whatever she hid, is. I just wanted the letter, but found it with the earrings. Took me a long, bloody time figuring out whom they belonged to. Finally, someone knowledgeable enough in black market trade found an old document dating it as a possession of one Portuguese captain who’d been prisoner on one of the British ships Cheng Shih captured.”

Nadine laughed to herself while Chloe pulled on her boots, lacing them up as Victor deduced, “So you pulled on the Portuguese thread all the way to Brazil. And to me and Sam.”

“To the church he built,” she confirmed. “It’s convenient you two had finished a job in the country. Never took pirates to be that religious, but Sam would be the perfect person to ask. Figured it was worth a look, and the Phantom pricks only confirmed it. Every time I find a lead, it’s gone like smoke. Phantom is beating me in this race and doing a damn good job at covering their tracks. They would certainly put Asav in his place.”

Victor sighed as he parked the plane and turned in his seat to face them. “Now we have a French and Roman ring. Empires are overlapping.”

Sam laughed giddily as Victor continued, “Sorry to be the downer among us, but am I the only one seeing a clear thread connecting things? Between you and Nadine, Phantom has pulled the rug out from under you multiple times, and now you’re praising old pirates for their ability to do the same thing. Exactly how old is Phantom?”

Sam held his hands out. “Does it matter?”

“This wouldn’t be the first secret order I’ve dealt with, kid, and they were _nice_ compared to what Phantom might be capable of.”

“Then you were a good choice of pilot,” Chloe declared, standing. “Your experience will come in handy. Now, where’s the best place to get breakfast here?”

Victor sighed as he went ignored. “England’s not exactly known for its cuisine.”

* * * * * *

“It’s only about a two hour flight,” Chloe pointed out.

“If I didn’t know you were a fool, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me,” Nadine declined.

“Mm,” Sam hummed.

“You said you wanted to see Iceland! Europe’s convenient for quick sights.”

“I like to keep my mind on a job,” Nadine declared as she picked a tomato out of her sandwich and ate it. “Leisure time comes after.”

“Mmhm,” Sam murmured to himself.

The women turned to him while Victor sighed, “I never should’ve given you technology.”

“Nnm…Hm?” Sam perked up from the tablet with his mouth full of eggs and sausage. He found the three of them staring. “What? I’m actually researching here.”

“You’re a fast learner, I’ll give you that,” Victor admitted. “Your brother gets outsmarted by his phone.”

Sam laughed. “The internet’s a lot better than when I was first introduced to it.”

“So what’s got you singing to yourself?” Chloe asked.

“Oh I just found the design on our ring,” he chimed, lifting his hand to tap the pinkie on which he wore it.

Nadine frowned. “You’re getting rather attached to that thing.”

“It’s a ring. What easier way to keep track of it? Anyways, I was just off by one monarch. Recognize this?”

He rotated the tablet to show them the image of an ornate piece of furniture that was dark wood with golden, leafy embellishments. Nadine observed, “Same leaves as the ring, but those things are all over Europe.”

“Sure,” Sam relinquished, “but one André-Charles Boulle is the one who put them on French furniture. All it took was a certain king of vanity to notice, and his work became the standard for palaces everywhere. I was off by one monarch, though. The Sun King’s preferences were a bit too ornate to fit on a gold band, so this is much more his son’s style, but regardless…”

He gestured in the air for them to be patient as he switched tabs. “ _This_ is going up for auction soon.”

Chloe stared at the screen. “A chair.”

Sam looked at the screen. “Well, yes, it was stolen from Versailles when the French Revolution broke out—among other things…”

He switched tabs again. “It’s a ‘lost art’ auction, featuring everything from paintings, to furniture, and diamonds believed to be lost through time. Everything from lost Da Vincis, Van Gogh’s, a whole lot of French relics, including this little delight. Far better than our fluorite, huh? It’s the Hortensia pink diamond.”

Chloe shook her head. “That’s a weak lead, Sam.”

Victor agreed. “I fail to see how the two are related. The Hortensia is in the Louvre on display, any how.”

“A fake one is,” Sam agreed as he zoomed in on the jeweler’s black-gloved hand holding the diamond at the right angle. “But you can’t fake a crack like that. It was owned by the Sun King and was stolen in seventeen-ninety-two. _Supposedly_ it was recovered along with some other gemstones of mention, which are _officially_ at the Louvre, for the viewing pleasure of civilians. But we’re hardly civilians—it doesn’t matter.

“What matters, is that the diamond, as well as some notable gems for Portuguese cathedrals, were purchased from Jean Baptiste Tavernier. You might recognize the name as the man who also sold the French Blue, or better known as, the Hope Diamond to the very same French king. Frankly, if you need a passable blue sapphire, he’s the man to see. Whatever the connection, the auction is at the…Gool du Lion—”

“La Gueule du Lion?” Sullivan pronounced more correctly.

“—which explains why France is so busy right now. It’s worth a look,” Sam finished.

Sullivan shook his head incredulously. “The Lion’s Mouth. You’re talkin’ about Francine Madeleine’s place.”

A collective shift of fatigue sounded around the table as Chloe went back to eating whereas Nadine declared, “I’m not interested in attending another auction where you are.”

Victor agreed, “Not to mention the reality of how you’d even get in. After the Rossi incident, my contacts are washed up. Never mind that it’s one of Francine Madeleine’s estates.”

Sam answered easily, “You on bad terms? Chloe could get in. Easy, she gets in and opens a back door for us.”

“And then when we’re recognized?” Victor said. “I never thought I’d see the day when knowing _too many_ people would get me into trouble.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “All you gotta do is shave your mustache. No one will know you, then.”

“Not on your life.”

“Well that’s fine, because I won’t be noticed. Between playing the waiter and running for my life, no one got a good look at me in Italy.”

“I wouldn’t be over confident about that,” Victor disagreed. “These people never forget anything.”

Chloe intercepted, “I’m intrigued, I am, but let’s leave that at plan-b. What have you got for the other side of the ring?”

Sam scooped eggs onto his fork as he informed, “The inscription is from Emperor Aurelian. Rome was in deep shit during the third century; it had split into three parts, economic depression and plague were rampant, but he’s the guy who reunited everybody, thus earning the title, ‘restorer of the world.’ ”

Victor intervened, “Sam, we’re not here for history. Where’s our next bread crumb in this goose chase?”

He sighed, complaining to himself, “No one shares my fine taste. Fine, Aurelian: otherwise known as a sun king in his own right since he was a part of a sun god cult. Gotta love having divinity on your side when it comes to ruling. _However,_ I’m not one to ignore a lady in the room. His wife, one Ulpia Severina, is the only woman to ever rule Rome. Considering her husband was assassinated, that’s one brave woman to step up while the Senate got its shit together.”

“There is a strong perfume to all this,” Victor agreed. “So we’re going to Rome?”

“I’m partial to France,” Sam refused.

“We’re not risking our necks for a pink rock,” Victor denied.

“It’s practically along the way!” Sam defended. “We can first check out the chateau Severina’s four-time-great-grandfather built.”

He had their attention now. “Which was?” Victor prompted.

“Augustus Octavius,” Sam purred. “Julius Caesar’s nephew, and heir.”

Victor shifted in his seat. “Caesar’s known for a lot of things, but treasure ain’t one of them.”

“Especially treasure in France,” Nadine agreed.

“No,” Sam relinquished, “but his temple and burial place is the only one in Rome committed to a star, or a comet, actually. The comet was in the sky a week after Caesar died, which was all Augustus needed to deify his old man and solidify his reign. Our leads do love worshipping their stars, but the temple is in ruins. Not a decent locale to hide anything, but the chateau has been renovated steadily over the years.”

Sam finished chewing and chuckled merrily at them. “Guess when the auction’s being held.”

The others sighed as Chloe caught her forehead in her hand. “Everyone knows when Caesar died.”

“How convenient that we find ourselves in the month of March,” Sam crooned.

Nadine grimaced slightly. “So we’re going to some ancient house, and if we don’t find anything, then the auction is our only hunch?”

Victor seconded, “And if that chateau means anything, it’s crawling with security.”

“I have no doubts,” Sam agreed, and then fixed his eyes on Nadine. “If only we had an expert on high level security.”

Her brows lifted on him. “You sound sure that it will even have security in the first place.”

“I know the owner.”

Victor pivoted to fully face him. “Excuse me?”

Chloe laughed, “What the hell, Sam.”

But Sam’s eyes returned to Nadine. “It’s not the first historical site to just disappear from the eyes of the world, is it? Thankfully, my memory’s good.”

He opened his denim jacket to pull out a thin packet of papers that looked as if they had been folded a thousand times. He handed it to Nadine. “Now, who do we know was both rich and paranoid enough to buy out sites that might hold ties to treasure?”

Nadine’s lips parted as she looked over the familiar stationary. “Rafe.”

“Eugh,” Chloe groaned. “Never met him. Never wanted to, either.”

“You missed out,” Sam teased. “I wonder what’s become of his company since his disappearance?”

Victor answered, “He’s been assumed dead and the company’s shareholders are tearing it apart and fighting over the pieces.”

“How did you get this?” Nadine focused.

“The papers?” Sam said after he swallowed his coffee. “Rafe’s parents were gloriously old fashioned. More paper files than digital ones. Took me two years to get him comfortable enough for me to swipe it. I figured if I needed to hide from him, the best places would be right under his nose, so I found the list of the Adler’s properties.”

He placed the tablet on the center of the table with a map on the screen. “As I was researching in my spare time, this place was out of consideration pretty fast. It’s not easy to get to, so it’s a good place to hide, but that also makes it hard to escape.”

Nadine pivoted to better read it, “The terrain here is irregular…cliffs, valleys, and water—no one in their right mind would build here.”

Chloe intercepted, “Except an egocentric dictator who doesn’t mind killing work force in the process. It’s so out of the way, that would keep it intact from all the wars France has been through.”

Sam nodded, “Yes it would.”

The ladies looked to Sullivan, who sighed, “I guess having Rafe’s interest is enough to get us there.”

Sam laughed, “He was a lot of things, but totally clueless was not one of them. His Latin was shit, though.”

* * * * * * *

“Land here,” Nadine said. “We’ll have to be quiet about this.”

“Coming here in the evening wasn’t the best idea,” Victor commented as he used the river as a landing strip. A twinkling orange ribbon reflecting the sunset.

“Better cover under darkness,” she explained, “and men rely on their torches, which blinds them to what’s in the shadows.”

“Assuming they don’t have night vision gear,” Chloe remarked.

Sullivan declared, “The river gets narrower the closer you are to the house. I’ll have to drop you off a couple miles out.”

“Here that, Sam? Think you can keep up?” Nadine threw back at him.

“Ha ha, funny,” he sassed. “I’ll have you know I’m in peak physical condition.”

Chloe laughed, “I wouldn’t go that far, smoke stack.”

“Ouch, are we friends or what?”

“What,” Nadine answered.

The plane bobbed over the water, Sullivan cruising to the riverbank for them to jog through the shallows. “Keep that engine purring, Victor.”

“Yeah, just keep your head on, will ya? I don’t wanna be the one to bring bad news to your brother.”

“Nothin’ to worry about, except maybe his jealousy,” Sam chuckled before he closed the door behind him. “Woa—Shit! That’s freezing!”

“We need high ground,” Nadine ignored ahead of him.

“Follow me,” Chloe agreed, kneeing a chunk of icy sludge out of the way. “Let’s be quick while we’ve still got some evening left. There’s ice.”

Avoiding thicker brambles and forestry, they maneuvered up the river valley to a meadow that looked across the low mountains. “That’s beautiful,” Sam appraised the orange painted sky and the glimmer caused by ice patches.

Chloe cursed, “Shit, I was hoping the security would abandon the place if they weren’t being paid.”

“Really?” Nadine countered, “I was looking at the two dozen buildings scattered across this place. Tell Victor we’ll be a while.”

Sam transferred the message while Chloe sketched a rough layout of the valleys, buildings, as well as the clear and forested areas.

_“Wouldn’t surprise me if a chateau out in the middle of nowhere had kennels,”_ Victor said over the transceiver. _“Rich pricks like that sort of thing.”_

Chloe made a sound of mirth. “We’ll mind the puppies. Let’s go.”

“That means we need to avoid being spotted,” Nadine reminded. “I’ll trust dogs to find us faster than men.”

“Where’re we starting?” Sam asked.

Chloe pointed between her drawing and the land ahead. “It’s not the easiest route, but what these valleys have in common, is that their high points are visible to each other.”

“If we take any of them out, others will see,” Nadine agreed, and jogged ahead.

“Uh,” Chloe remarked, “I guess she’ll be our compass.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Sam followed easily. “If she wants the hard work, who are we to stop her.”

“It’s nice you’re so on board,” Chloe chimed.

“What? Were you expecting some patriarchal bullshit? I got us here; my part’s done for a while.”

“Lazy,” Chloe teased.

“Energy conserving.”

“Idiots who will get us spotted,” Nadine hushed as they descended into a valley.

As she led the way to a small structure that was well disguised as a cottage, Sam realized, “Uh, hold on. What’re we doing?”

“What you did at the Rossi Estate,” Nadine informed. “Blackout.”

She forged ahead, leaving him gaping at Chloe. “That was _one_ power switch! I doubt a place this big is hooked up to one switch!”

A man exited the cottage for a smoke break, but his match never reached his cigarette as Nadine pulled him into the foliage. “Ah…” Chloe realized as they rejoined her, “The house blocks us from the other valleys. Nice place to start.”

“Some birds cast a shadow with their wings to lure fish,” Nadine confirmed.

Sam sighed. “Reverse beacons of Gondor, I get it.”

“What?” Nadine simultaneously asked and hushed.

Sam balked, “ _Lord of the Rings!_ What the hell?”

“Nadine likes animals, not literature,” Chloe patted his shoulder as they crept into the house where she crooned, “Ah, this is much better…”

The room was an open kitchenette and sitting area, but on the central table were maps complete with schematics. Chloe and Nadine made notes of the property while Sam kept watch out of the windows. He pointed out, “If you want to make it look natural, we’re gonna have to split up and time it right.”

“Here,” Nadine said. Sam came over to see the locations she was pointing to. “This place is old and large enough that chunks of grid going into darkness wouldn’t be irregular. These three points will not only knock out half the power, but they’ll get us close to the main house.”

Chloe pointed, “I’ll take this one.”

Nadine nodded, “And I this one.”

Sam made a displeased sound. “So I get the one closest to the kennels? Thanks.”

Chloe chuckled as Nadine pulled ear buds out for them to use. “Turn down the transceiver. We’ll want silence for this.”

“Victor,” Sam relayed, “we’re going into darkness for a while.”

_“I’ll wait for you to contact me, then,”_ he confirmed. _“Don’t wait too long, either. A storm’s supposed to arrive around dawn.”_

“Noted.”

Sam set off through the shadows, and once he rounded a thicket of trees, the occasional howl was all he needed to know the right direction. The security cottage was next to a larger building for the dogs, but outside of the latter were a number of guards. _Must not like the noise,_ Sam guessed.

So he began to creep close to the security cottage—

An outcry in French quickened his step to press himself against the wall of the cottage. He could not understand what they said, but the kennel masters were rushing back inside and the barking had heightened, tenfold.

It worked as a nice distraction for the guards, too, allowing Sam to walk right through the front door and punch one into slumber before he elbowed the other to the same destination…

He was looking over the control panel on the wall when his gaze was diverted to the window. He ducked instantly as more dogs than he had ever seen flooded out of the kennel.

“Ladies! Ladies, we got a problem. I don’t know what set ‘em off or if it’s time for their exercise, but the dogs are loose.”

“Shit,” he heard Nadine whisper the same moment Chloe remarked, “Please tell me they happened to just get loose and security will be distracted rounding them up.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Sam uttered unhappily as he watched the largest dogs, Italian mastiffs fight against their leash chains. “You ladies should get to the kennels.”

“No, we’re close to the house,” Nadine uttered. “Once there, the dogs won’t matter.”

“Sam’s the farthest away,” Chloe realized.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to get some of the dogs’ scents on me. Hopefully that won’t set them off to a stranger.”

“Unlikely,” Nadine disagreed.

“Worth a shot,” Chloe contrasted. “Stay sharp, Sam.”

Sam was already peering through the kennel doors. He did not hear any lingering guards but not all of the dogs had been taken out for patrol. “Hey, poochy,” he cooed as one stood up from its reclined position.

Some barked while others merely gazed at him, but for the most part, Sam was free to search for a blanket or a reasonably clean kennel to roll around in…

Coming to the end of the row of dogs, the kennels were L-shaped as he discovered storage area that had everything from racks of kibble to a table of more security equipment. Sam leaned over it to scrutinize the camera feeds.

“Ladies, they’re onto us. Some of the trees and bushes are cameras.”

“Get a spare weapon whenever you can,” Chloe said the same moment Sam’s gaze slid to the shelves.

“No problem. This kennel’s the hot ticket of this place.”

Victor’s voice intercepted their discourse. _“And, kid, I’ve just been doing a wide lap of the property. It looks like there’s a cave system of some sort on the north side. It opens up to the river. Might be a good place to lose anyone on your tail, so I’ll be there if you need me.”_

“North side, got it,” he repeated for memory, the same moment he realized he was looking into a pair of eyes on the other side of the shelf.

Human eyes.

The hand that was poised over the shelf was already gone by the time Sam processed _Enemy? Armed? Girl?_ as he sprinted around to catch her, but his shoulder clipped the shelf that was being pushed over.

“Agh!” he exclaimed, gripping his shoulder briefly. He did not exactly tackle her as they did attack each other. He grunted against the elbow in his stomach.

They revolved around each other. She was hard to catch, being a good deal shorter than he was and knew how to block. He reached for her but he wound up knocking his hands against the other shelf or grasping nothing. He finally grabbed the bell of her forearm only to get a boot in the abdomen…and her other fist landed against the softest part of him.

Landing hard on one knee, Sam coughed for air but managed to keep a hold on her arm. “Wait…wait. Vous…française?”

He had the first moment to properly look at her as she had something like a smirk on her face. “American, actually.”

“Oh,” he chimed, not surprised as she twisted her arm and slipped out of his grasp. “Shit…” he breathed as he tried to rise and go after her, but as he crunched over scattered kibble, she was already gone.


	4. Shadows

“Sam? What the hell just happened?” Chloe asked in his ear as he stood outside the kennels. Each peak was, for the most part, well groomed so the security cottages stood in open grass, but the woman was definitely gone.

“I’m not quite sure. I’m on my way over to you.”

Nadine picked up. “That didn’t sound like our sort of enemy.”

“No, she was definitely sneaking around like us,” Sam agreed. The main house was in the distance, a mansion by ancient and modern standards alike. “How’re we getting into the house?”

“Nadine’s working on it,” Chloe said. “Make your way around back.”

“You said it was a she?” the woman herself inquired.

“Yeah, but I was too busy avoiding dog food raining over my head to ask why she was here.”

Chloe laughed. “Well hey, if she preoccupies the gentlemen of this place, she’s welcome.”

Sam tried replaying their interaction in his mind as he ran over the rolling hill, wishing he had paid more attention to what she was reaching for on the shelf. Arriving at the house was remarkably easy, if one considered the sleeping guards he left in his wake easy. “I need more information, ladies. What do I do once I’m at the back door?”

Pressing himself against the house, he peeked around the corner—

The door opened and Nadine stepped out; Chloe was on the other side of the house, mirroring his stance. Nadine looked between them. “Get in.”

Sam appeared skeptical as Chloe went first with a smirk. “This is why she gets her share.”

They entered a kitchen that certainly recalled the era of servants. It had been renovated with modern tile and a stainless steel barn house sink, but it was large and arrange for many people to come and go. Nadine warned, “This floor was easy to clear but the rest of the house won’t be.”

“Well we don’t need the whole house,” Sam encouraged. “Though it would be better if we knew what we were looking for.”

Chloe met his pointed stare. “It’s hard, sometimes shiny, and is usually called a vault.”

“Oh, excuse me, I thought we were looking for anything even remotely to do with this ring. That is, if you didn’t pull out some special information for us.”

As they crept up a flight of servant stairs, she argued, “I’m figuring this out in the same time as you.”

“Both of you, shut up,” Nadine ordered at the top. “We have to search the place regardless. Though it’s strange…technically we’re in Rafe’s house.”

“One of,” Sam confirmed. “I doubt he ever spent much time here.”

“No,” she agreed under her breath. “That would be the cathedral.”

“Let the guy stay dead, you two,” Chloe hushed as they found different furniture to hide behind. Sam and Nadine were behind a long couch while Chloe stood behind an urn even larger than herself. The interior of the house exhibited the ages through which the structure had survived, as well as an expensive infusion of technology. Sam patted the floor; the wooden design concealed heated floors.

He and Nadine exchanged looks. “Rather domestic, huh?”

“Are you sure Rafe bought this place or did the Adlers already own it?” she agreed.

Chloe intercepted, “Two o’clock. Butler pantry.”

A line of guards off duty strolled into the living room. Sam took a moment to observe the towering ceiling with exposed beams as well as a mural in need of a renovation.

His gaze was pulled back down by an array of French passing among the men. They grimaced and laughed, one of them tapping his nose. Nadine and Chloe looked at Sam, who was puzzled until he dusted off kibble crumbs from his jacket.

The guards moved on, seeming to want a different room as one of them called in a custodian through his earpiece. The old man who wheeled in his cleaning supplies went to sleep almost immediately in Nadine’s headlock. She carried him to the couch while Sam analyzed the blueprints of the house and grounds on the coffee table.

Chloe whispered, “We don’t know how much time we have. The other rooms won’t be so easy. Keep your eyes open.”

“And what assumption are we working on that the house doesn’t have cameras?” Sam wondered.

“None,” Nadine answered. “But whoever is in charge of monitoring this floor has failed. Those men should’ve been notified of us. We need to move up. The bedrooms are even less likely to have surveillance.”

“I suppose Rafe was always prone to paying for the most, not necessarily the best,” Sam taunted.

Nadine gave him a dangerous glare but otherwise proceeded silently up the grand staircase. They divided between rooms. A brief once over was usually all it took, until Nadine and Chloe heard Sam’s whistle call them into one of the offices.

“Smell that?” Sam said from his place before a hidden door. The wall opened to a stairwell. 

Chloe approached and inhaled. “This leads underground. Sullivan said there was a cave system but maybe there’s more.”

“And this isn’t on the blueprint,” Sam confirmed.

Chloe took the front while Sam closed the door behind Nadine, who said, “Even if there’s nothing here, if things remain this easy, I won’t mind.”

“Don’t jinx us,” he complained. Wordlessly, they each withdrew their flashlights and plummeted into the earth. When the ground leveled out, Sam exhaled. “I feel like I’m back in Scotland. Only…without the lovely basalt columns. What’s the white stuff?”

The cavern walls were gently striped with dirty and stark white stone, as well as the floor having patches of caked white material.

“Salt or chalk,” Nadine guessed. “The river is tidal even though we’re quite inland, and France has white cliffs like England. Taste it if you like.”

“I’ll pass.”

They finished descending the staircase, which had gone from luxury wood to aged but sturdy lumber, and then the final one snapped under Sam’s boot. “That doesn’t bode well.”

Chloe went some paces ahead to touch an empty, iron torch bolted in the stone. “Technology’s going back in time down here. That’s what I like.”

They had to leap over a gap in the stone floor and climb to a higher outcrop. Then a choice of tunnels presented themselves. Sam guessed, “I don’t suppose the North Star would be a horrible guess…if we knew which way was—”

“That way,” Nadine declared, pointing to the right of the two tunnels.

Sam and Chloe exchanged looks while Nadine scanned the cavern behind them. “We don’t need to guess,” Chloe announced with a gesture to the top of the tunnel. Above the entrance was a sigil of an eagle on a star.

“I didn’t know Caesar had a family crest,” Nadine commented.

“He didn’t,” Sam contrasted. “Crests are medieval, so the Romans weren’t there yet. And you didn’t really need one when you were conquering the known western world. This was added posthumously. The eagle of Rome and the comet star for his death.”

“I thought his coins had elephants…you know, opposite his face,” Chloe said as they began through the new cavern.

“Sure, coins were always changing back then, and some of his would have had an elephant,” Sam provided. “It was a symbol of power; between Hannibal, Alexander, and then Caesar, of course—”

Nadine cut in, “If you two are going to have an on-going know-it-all competition, I’ll let one of you get shot next time we’re in a mess.”

“Well don’t go inviting it,” Chloe retorted. And then, “Ah, our first puzzle.”

Nadine made a sound of displeasure while Sam otherwise thought aloud, “I guess if it wasn’t war or sex, or the odd plague, all anyone had to occupy themselves were puzzles.”

Nadine frowned at the massive mosaic on the wall. White and faded grey-ish tiles, which might have been blue with some cleaning, depicted dolphins in crudely depicted waves. The picture took up the entire wall…and it was where the tunnel ended.

“Chloe,” Sam said, “I think you’re up.”

“I think you’re right,” she chimed, extracting the fluorite gem from her hip sack. She went to hold it level on the far left, where the mosaic was in the most disrepair. Tiles had fallen and it seemed there had been some sort of effort to cover it with plaster, but in the mess was a cavity with a peg. Chloe stuck the gem into it. “When this was new, these glass tiles would have been beautiful to behold—”

Something audibly slid into place and all at once, the tiles dropped. Like a surreal dream, the ancient seascape cascaded to their feet, hissing and crackling as the mosaic and wall crumbled, revealing the tunnel beyond.

Sam, Chloe, and Nadine stood frozen as glass, rock, and ceramic dust settled around them. “Aw…” Chloe said almost forlornly. “That’s a waste. Moving on.”

Nadine was through first, and she announced, “This explains the dolphins. This leads to the ocean.”

The cavern was a grotto at some point, but the low opening that would be covered by water during high tide was now a gaping cave mouth. Water had since cut into the floor and more.

“Mind the canals. We should have brought a gondola,” Chloe japed.

“I’m not interested in being wetter than I already am,” Sam declared. “What’s the point of this, then? An escape route if the house wasn’t difficult enough to attack, but…why cover it up?”

Nadine chuckled as she crossed in front of him. “You need to learn to properly survey your surroundings, Drake.”

She sauntered over to where Chloe was already standing: a series of glass pieces set into the rock along the wall facing the cave mouth. She peered into one of them and said, “I think we need to be on the other side of this.”

“You sure?” Sam doubted. “Because this place wouldn’t exactly have been full of light when these were made. I don’t think light is supposed to shine through these and show us anything. You good?”

He was looking at Nadine, who turned back from scrutinizing the cavern. “You’re givin’ me a lot of grief for being so distracted.”

“Never hurts to be on your guard,” she disregarded.

“Are you expecting Phantom to drop in on us?”

“Based on yours and Chloe’s reputation for attracting gun fights, yes, I am.”

“Fair enough,” the latter answered herself. “Until then, let’s not wait around and see what is the point of all this decoration.”

Over ledges and canals they went, and for so long that Nadine could not help but mention, “We’ve surely gone at least four kilometers.”

Chloe agreed, “I haven’t seen any other options. Have you?”

“No, but I don’t like going so long without incident or…shit.”

“You just had to say something,” Sam murmured as they came upon the end of the water’s reach in the cave system. On the rock beach were black, familiar boats. “We don’t have to worry about Phantom dropping in because we’re wildly behind them.”

Chloe chimed, “Well, at least we know we’re on the right track.”

Sam disagreed, “I’m not sure it’s a good thing to be losing this race… What are you doing?” 

“Looking for…” Chloe began as she pilfered through one of the boat’s contents, “a radio, or something…”

“Don’t bother,” Nadine turned to continue on their way. “They won’t leave something behind that would let someone track them. You can bargain that all of these boats are unregistered and empty. Phantom technically doesn’t exist, remember?”

Sam chuckled at the annoyance on Chloe’s face as he sauntered by Nadine, “Someone doesn’t enjoy not being the smartest one.”

She strode beside him up the hill of stone. “There’s no point to the title if either of you get us through this.”

He turned lifted brows toward her. “Trust? Nadine Ross, that sounds like trust. I’m hon—”

“Shut the hell up and explain what _this_ is.”

He stopped dead. At their feet was a circular pit, filled with copper mechanisms that had long since been caked in turquoise patina. It blocked their path, and on the other side were double doors. Sam narrated, “We need to figure this out to open those doors.”

“I could have done that much myself, thanks,” Nadine spat.

“Could you? Pulling your weight, Ross. It’s only a shame Phantom couldn’t leave the door open behind them.”

They both looked down at Chloe reaching into the pit. She rubbed her fingers together. “This is soaked. We need water for this… Pipes. There are pipes under here.”

“So…” Sam deduced. “Knowledge of water pressure…capillary effect to syphon water in here… That sounds more Inca or some other South American empire. Romans had plumbing, but weren’t particularly good at it yet.”

Chloe heaved a content sigh. “My favorite thing about the ancients? They were either brilliant, or lazy.”

They watched her find a nearly invisible chain near the wall. “Ross,” she summoned, and the two of them battled centuries of rust to unhinge tiles in the ceiling. Beyond the tiles were plates with holes in them, from which poured water.

“Well well,” Sam appraised. “Someone put a strainer at the bottle of a man-made lake up there. Wonder how silt and algae haven’t clogged those up—”

“Focus, Sam,” Chloe said. “The pipes and gears are floating.”

Free from gravity, the mechanisms rose and drifted into their natural place, revealing an astrolabe. Sam knelt beside the pool, pushing the thin circle of pipe around its central axis. Nadine frowned over the map that was certainly far cruder than any map she had seen. “How much do you know about the ancients’ mapping of the stars?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” Sam chimed, the same moment the axis clanked into place. The water drained through the pipes, and the doors cranked open on the other side. “It’s an elaborate doorknob.”

Chloe laughed as she carefully shimmied along the tiled edges to reach the other side. “Don’t pretend like you knew what you were doing.”

He chuckled, “Well if it helps, the map was also a calendar. I just moved it to the section of sky that was March.”

“Sure, Sam,” she trotted through the doors, pausing only when she heard a subtle ticking. “There’s a time limit! Come on!”

Sam and Nadine bound through the doors, twisting sideways as the doors angled shut. The former sighed, “It’s always unsettling when things shut behind you—”

He had turned to see the doors shut and—by a faint stroke of hope—find a way to open them again. Instead, he saw a familiar face behind them. She met Sam’s gaze an instant before Nadine knocked her to the ground.

“I thought we had a shadow,” she growled.

The woman landed _hard_ on the floor. The only courtesy she might have had was that the floor was tiled here instead of stone, but her cheek scraped against it. Her head lifted a second before she flinched into a fetal position, but not much could protect against a kick from Nadine. Chloe was on her, reaching behind for her knife—

“Uh, ladies. Ladies! You might notice she’s not fighting back?”

Nadine slammed her boot over her chest, rolling her onto her back and pinning her there. “Are you armed? You get one shot at answering honestly.”

But she was wearing a backpack, and she heaved herself over it so Nadine’s weight was off balance. Grabbing and buckling her knee, Nadine fell over her so Chloe had to disengage to avoid harming Nadine. Sam watched the goings-on with blunt perplexity until Chloe was knocked onto her back, her knife hand open for grabs.

“Ah uh,” he scolded, plucking the blade from Chloe before the woman could grasp it. For a brief moment, he had a good look at her: young. She was _maybe_ touching thirty, and her striking features told him he was not her favorite person at the moment.

Then an indignant yelp escaped her as Nadine pulled her by her backpack. Maybe the goal was to get her on her feet, but the woman fumbled and all but fell out of the straps. Her gloved hands caught her and pushed her back up, but Nadine danced out of reach with the bag. She gave it a bounced on her fingers. “This is dense. Let’s see, then.”

There was a moment of confusion as she puzzled through three overlapping zippers, and then peered inside. She blinked, and held up a granola bar—

It was smacked out of her hand, back down into the bag as the woman wrenched it from her. “For fuck’s sake.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Sheesh, language. This isn’t an ideal place to come camping, you know.”

“Not with those gloves,” Nadine agreed. “I’d take them from you if I thought they’d fit.”

Chloe, finally on her feet with air back in her lungs, scoffed, “Gloves.”

The woman peered at her, genuinely put off guard. “It’s winter.”

“Yeah?” Chloe countered.

“You’re…climbing. And stuff.” She peeked down at her palm, briefly flexing the textured silicone adhered to the slim-fitting gloves.

The others exchanged dubious glances. “How old are you?” Chloe demanded. They watched her shoulder one of the straps to zip the bag much faster than Nadine had opened it, and sling it over her shoulder blades before she pulled her French braid out from under it.

Sam could not help but smirk at the brow she lifted at Chloe. He changed tactics, “What’s your name?”

Her eyes flicked to him. “Irene.”

Chloe snorted. “That’s a lie, if ever I heard one. I know an alias when I hear it. Pick a name that’s more your generation, sweetheart.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nadine countered. “Go back to college, kid. This isn’t the place for you.”

“I’m not in college.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“I already graduated,” Irene scoffed, but it disintegrated into a whisper.

Chloe finished, “Well, that’s more than any of us can say. Either way, we’re stuck with her. We don’t have time to try and open these doors again.”

Nadine exploded, “I’m not responsible for an idiot going on some vigilante internship.” She spun around to face Sam, “ _This_ is the girl who got the jump on you?”

“Hey, don’t build a conscience now, Miss Mercenary,” he held up his hands defensively. “And don’t blame me for—”

No one but Irene was really paying attention to the room around them: a medieval conference room with a great slab of a table in the center of it, towering candelabras standing taller than Sam, an iron chandelier, and various books strewn about the room.

And the stairs on the other end topped with a door where two men were standing. Chloe was watching Irene, and jerked around when her expression changed. “RPG!” she cried, and gripped Irene’s arm as they dived to the side. The explosive hit the table, breaking it in two, but overall knocking it onto its side. The four of them lunged behind it for cover. It was so old and dusty that the edges were smoldering.

Sam yelled, “Our cover’s going! Take him out!”

Nadine twisted around with her magnum, and one shot later, they heard a heap fall down the stairs, accented by metal. Sam nodded once, “That’ll do.”

They all flinched as bullets peppered the table. “Do better!” he bellowed.

Chloe stood long enough to throw her knife. They heard a cry, and Nadine finished him off. Sam vaulted over the table, quickly unbuckling the holstered 9mm from the dead man’s waist and lifting the micro submachine gun he had dropped. A quick body search granted him Chloe’s knife and a spare magazine while he complained, “Don’t bring a gun, they said. It’ll be a stealth mission, they said.”

“Oh shut it,” Chloe sighed as she claimed the grenade launcher. “Irene, you alive?”

She was emerging from behind the table, glanced mistrustfully at the chandelier, and swerved under it as Sam approached her with the 9mm. “Have you shot a gun before?”

She looked up at him, her eyes not quite focused. “To _kill_ people?”

Nadine and Chloe looked up, the latter moaning, “Oh boy.”

“Maybe I’ll hang onto this,” Sam reconsidered.

He rotated to follow Nadine and Chloe up the stairs; he heard Irene behind him but only glanced back when she asked, “Why are you here?”

“You answer first,” he taunted as they traversed ruins. They were in a unique mixture of a castle and cave system. Sconces rested crookedly in the walls; another iron chandelier had long since fallen in the wide corridor. There were even framed paintings, long since overgrown with mold; only the glint of gold leaf suggested what they were.

“I’m not here to kill anybody.”

Chloe brought her up short. “Hey, if you’re going to be squeamish, keep your voice down, or we’ll be ambushed again.”

Nadine answered, “These two will never call themselves murderers. Only thieves.”

Chloe gave her a nasty look. “Don’t _invite_ inquiries, yeah?”

“You’re here to steal something?” Irene directed at Sam.

“Uh,” he deliberated on how to respond. “We’re here to…acclimate to circumstantial factors required to conclude a detainment endeavor.”

“You’re here to steal things,” she reiterated. “Old things. You’re obviously not very good at it, or that mosaic you destroyed would be worth a few hundred thousand, surely.”

He frowned and she fidgeted at the finger he held up. “Hush.”

Chloe intercepted as they rounded the corner of the hallway, “Just because it’s pretty, doesn’t mean it’s worth much. Ah…we will be climbing, then.”

The corridor ended outside. The next step was climbing a shear cliff face. As Sam made his way up, he came across an unhappy seagull’s nest. “Oh, sorry, pal. You know, Irene may have had the right idea about bringing gloves. Climbing freezing stone? Not ideal.”

“I don’t want to hear your complaints, Drake,” Nadine silenced.

He laughed, “Alright, but you’re slowing down. What’s the matter? You got an injured leg too? ‘Scuse me.”

He scaled past her and eventually heaved himself over the edge. Behind him was the river, and in front of him was rocky land and hills rolling their way back toward the estate. “Coast is clear, for now. Come on up, I gotcha.”

He offered his hand but Nadine went right past it. Not surprised, he kept it available for Chloe, who chimed, “Cheers, but no need.”

With a sigh, he stood up straight and pivoted to follow her. “Fine, sorry.” His back was turned against Irene’s hand emerging over the cliff side. “Forgot I was with ladies who didn’t accept politeness—”

“HELP ME UP!” Irene called, waving her hand for anyone to see.

Sam rushed back to the edge, gripping all the way past her elbow, and heaved her right up. “You’re heavier than I expected,” he said the same moment she breathed, “Holy shit.”

Her toe caught on the edge, but she stumbled onto her feet, where she felt her eyes travel over him while her chin craned up. Sam’s expression fell as she avoided his gaze and murmured, “You’re…bigger. Up close.”

He scoffed mildly, “Well, yeah, that’s how perspective works. Like what I said about you being heavier. Maybe it’s the bag.”

“I mean tall people give me anxiety,” she uttered, more to herself.

That caught him off guard. “Oh. I…don’t have a response for that.”

“A miracle,” Nadine declared ahead of them. “Keep that up and you can stay.”

“Ha ha,” he returned as they picked up the pace. Jogging near Irene, he tried to survey their surroundings but they were in the thick of night. Moonlight bouncing off smooth patches of stone or grass led them over short ledges and around the scattering of trees.

“Where are we going?” Irene asked, but no sooner had she voiced it, then Nadine launched herself into a thicket of trees and underbrush.

Clustered in the shadows, they heard her curse, “Dogs,” she glared at Sam, “and one of us smells like dinner.”

“Whose fault is that?” he sent a look at Irene, who met it with that raised brow and not a single bit of apology. He retaliated by yanking her behind the crumbling wall of stone he had found. “We’re also a beacon with that white backpack of yours.”

Irene opened her mouth but paused when she observed the three of them readying their guns. Her chin jerked between them and the sounds of dogs barking. “You’re going to kill the dogs?”

Chloe snorted a derisive sound. “The ones with teeth, anyway.”

“But why don’t you shoot the men controlling the dogs?” she insisted.

Sam peered at her. “You adapt quickly.”

“Because the dogs arrive first,” Chloe snapped. She met Sam’s gaze. “Keep her quiet.”

He sighed, realizing he had involuntarily volunteered for pulling Irene’s weight—

“What the—shit,” he breathed. His head swiveled around, but Irene was gone. “ _How_ is she good at that?”

“What?” Chloe whispered, only to gape like he was. “Where—?” she mouthed.

“I don’t know!” he mimed.

Annoyed but mildly impressed, Chloe abandoned the thought of Irene in favor of the dogs that had arrived at the grass around their thicket. For a swift moment, she poised her grenade launcher to send an explosive far away from them, diverting dogs and humans alike; but in this darkness, the trail of smoke would lead them right to her anyway.

She exhaled, “Dogs it is.”

Nadine’s hand lifted, stopping her. Then she saw why: the dogs had paused, their heads turned. They launched themselves over the grass, abandoning their thicket, and a moment later, a number of men came in their wake. French, and to their mutual surprise, English reached their ears.

“What the hell’s wrong with them?”

“They’ve got a scent!”

“No, they were supposed to clear this acre first!”

“Aller! Allons-y!”

The three of them waited with baited breath, dogs and humans fading in the distance. Sam broke the silence with, “You know they’re chasing Irene.”

“Let them,” Nadine declared.

He could only shake his head as he worked on keeping up. “Brutal.”

“I don’t like it either, Sam,” Chloe consoled, “but it’s not on us that a pretty idiot landed herself in the wrong place tonight.”

“All I’ll say, is I’d feel a lot better having some clue that we’re not just running in circles—SHIT!”

“SAM!” Chloe yelled as the ground gave way beneath them. Nadine doubled back, managing to catch her hand.

“The dogs are coming back! Climb!” Nadine cried, but as grass, trees, and rumble fell out from under Chloe and she hung by Nadine’s grip, she gazed down, searching for Sam. “Chloe! We don’t have time! Climb!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to Irene, who will call out everything Uncharted glosses over, and singlehandedly raise the rating of the story with her F-bombs lol


	5. Feng Shui

Sam’s chest roared with pain, simultaneously trying to cough and suck in air, but the fall had completely winded him. He had enough sense to see the hole above his head, and the commotion around him. Tilting his head through the dust, he made out black figures with guns.

Lack of air kept him from cursing as he rolled over—right over a ledge. “Agh!” he growled, landing on his knees but out of sight. He flinched at the chaos of gunfire, but when he realized it wasn’t at him, he peeked up to see Chloe struggling to swing a leg over the lip of the cavern ceiling. His submachine gun had fallen somewhere, but he extracted the 9mm and took out the men firing upward.

His attack confused the Phantom soldiers, allowing him a moment to find another place to hide while Chloe escaped above. Counting his bullets and glancing to see what he was dealing with, Sam both knew he was sorely outnumbered but that half of the soldiers were working on a puzzle at the other end of the cavern. Only, instead of solving it, they were installing explosives to demolish the door.

“They’re as bad as Shoreline,” Sam huffed with a look at the state of the ceiling. He resolved to take aim, and fired at the dynamite mounted on the seam of the doors.

And discovered that it was C4, not dynamite.

The explosion was massive. Phantom men went soaring over Sam as he pressed himself against his ledge and covered his head. The ceiling was open above him, so nothing more could collapse over him, but that did not stop a fallen tree from crashing near him from the impact.

Before the dust could settle or the survivors could get their bearings, Sam was on his feet and sprinting through what used to be a doorway. Around the corner was a rope bridge. “The one time these things stand the test of time,” Sam lamented as he used Chloe’s knife to sever the bridge. It crashed into the rocks and spitting waves beneath him, and Sam realized with some pride and wariness that he was officially ahead of Phantom—

In the stillness, a rushed, airy sound and a skid of stone met his ears. He poised the gun in the direction of the noise, only to heave a strange feeling of relief. Irene was struggling over one of the many cliff ledges. “Lady, I almost put a bullet in your head.”

Far from intimidated, she sighed raggedly, holding herself up by her forearms. “Could you pull me up and then shoot me?”

Sam did not know what to make of that, but he felt a smile threaten to tug at his mouth. “Yeah, sure.”

Gripping her upper arms, he stood up with her. “Where are the others?” she asked as he took a minute to shake out his denim jacket.

“They’re above us, probably dealing with Rafe’s security while we’re stuck with Phantom. We’ve got the lead on them for now, and we need to keep it if we want to stay alive.”

“Rafe?” she asked, following as he shrugged back into his jacket.

“The asshole who owns this place. He’s dead but his security force is still here.”

“Why? Who owns it now?”

“I don’t know who’s paying them. I just want them to leave me the hell alone. Sully, come in.”

 _“Loud and clear,”_ replied the transceiver Sam extracted from his belt.

“Stealth was a lost cause and I lost the ear piece anyway.”

 _“It always is,”_ Sullivan responded.

“Chloe and Nadine are above ground. We got separated, and based on their not chiming in right now, they’re preoccupied.”

_“What do you need me to do?”_

“Stay somewhere convenient. Where are you now?”

_“Well, I’m looking inside a cavern full of empty Phantom boats. Don’t suppose I should linger ‘round here?”_

“No, we’ve already passed those. Move up river. We’ll find you, one way or another.”

_“Alright, kid. Just stay alive._

“Sounds great.” He holstered the transceiver and eyed Irene striding ahead of him to stare up at another wall inlaid with colored glass.

“Did you ever figure out what these were for?” she asked.

“The best I can guess is decoration. Once upon a time, this place was considered opulent. Colored glass serving no function would be nice to show off. You’ve been following us this whole time, huh?”

“Parallel trains.”

Sam wore a stupefied look on his face. “Uh. What?”

“I’m not following you. We’re just going in the same direction. What are you looking for?”

“Well,” he took a moment to rake a hand through his hair, pebbles and soil falling out of it. He peered at Irene extracting a bottle of water from her backpack, pulling the mouthpiece open. “It’s not so much about finding anything right now. We’re stuck on whatever path some dead folks laid out for us.”

It was her turn to look at him while she gulped. “Great start.”

A chuckle escaped him as he eyed the drink. “Tell me about it. What’s in that?”

“Water.”

He slumped with a pointed look. “No kidding. Can I have some?”

“No.”

He shook his head incredulously. “It’s just my luck that I get the most hard ass women for company. You afraid of germs or something?”

“You can have one of these,” she offered, extending a granola bar to him.

Sam sighed and took what he was given. “Thanks. And I meant what’s the dark thing in the bottle.”

Irene paused in her sliding it back into her bag. “Oh. A filter.”

“They put filters in bottles now?” he asked, peeling the wrapper down. He hummed pleasantly at the sweet frosting coating the bottom of the bar.

“Well sure. Where have you been?” she remarked, but not unkindly.

“Prison,” he answered easily. “And then Scotland, a little Italy, Madagascar, India, and now I find myself here.”

Pause. “Oh.”

He laughed, “It’s the prison thing that’s got you hung up, right?”

“A bit, yeah,” she uttered gently as they came upon a skeleton reclining against an alcove wall. Sam knelt beside it, carefully lifting the tattered pieces of raiment and the tarnished helmet fringed with rusted.

“This place once had guards. That’s a good sign.”

“Is there a sigil on his chest?” Irene asked.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he realized, but when she shined a light on the body, they could not make out the fabric’s original color, let alone any allegiance symbols. “This guy’s identity is long gone. We’d have better luck reading his DNA. Is that a phone?”

“Yeah?” she returned, touching the screen and extinguishing the light.

“Jesus,” he laughed, but it was without mirth. “Time keeps going.”

And so did they, until they arrived at a room full of plinths about sternum height on Irene. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned.

“Is it taboo to ask when you got out?”

He looked at her. “Of what? Prison? Uh, no…it was almost three years ago.”

They maneuvered among the plinths, trying to find a pattern as there was no door out of this room, but the puzzle itself was not apparent yet. “Three years but no technical update?”

Sam’s gaze had moved to the ceiling, scanning any corner for traps as he pried the last bite from the wrapper. “I worked two jobs during it, one of which was mostly in northern Scotland, and cell reception there was a joke. I’ve been catching up, though.” He gave her a curious look. “Most people would ask ‘how long’ to try and figure out the sentence.”

She rotated to look at him from her place across the room. “Did you deserve it?”

He chewed slowly, crinkling the wrapper in his fist. “Yes and no. It was more of a guilty by association. Let’s see if these things move or if they have pressure plates.”

Sam was about to shove the wrapper into his pocket, when he paused to read: _Coconut yogurt and almonds. Vegan. Gluten free. Biodegradable wrapper made from sugar cane!_ Meanwhile, Irene bent to pick up an orb the size of a softball. “There’s another one over there by you.”

Sam’s head lifted as he pocketed the trash and retrieved a sphere about the same size, noticing, “This one’s marble. Yours is copper. They were good about choosing materials that would last.”

“So…are they slotted into something or is the test about gentility? Which plinths would they have to balance on?”

Sam analyzed the arrangement of the columns. “Maybe these are positions in the sky, and these orbs are the stars or planets. This one’s probably Venus,” he guessed, palming the pale yellow and peach marble. “The north star.”

Irene looked at her sphere, patches of it turquoise with patina. “Copper would be for Mars?”

“Maybe…so far, nothing’s linked to Mars, though.”

He bent to examine the plinths, trying to find something in the sculptural geometric designs…

“There’s a line of metal in the floor,” came Irene’s voice. She had moved to his side of the room to point at the wall. “It disappears under this.”

Sam gave the wall a knock. It did not yield much of a hollow sound but he hoped aloud, “This is a secret door. It’s gotta be. Alright, let’s back track.”

The floor was so dirty that he lost the line moving through the marble twice, but eventually he saw the pattern. “The line breaks at these two points. Put your orb on that one; I’ll take this one.”

Getting the spheres to stay in place, however, was a different issue. Irene huffed a sound of mirth, “Someone really didn’t want these spheres on here.”

“That would make sense. Greeks and Romans had the geometry and the masons to carve something that looked even, but a sphere would prove otherwise. This room is protecting itself. There’s gotta be a sweet spot—there. I got mine, how’s yours?”

“The petina’s not doing me any favors,” she remarked, and then finally jerked her hands over the orb, sending it spinning. It’s momentum kept it spiraling in a circle over the plinth…long enough for the wall to slide into the floor.

“That works. Come on!” Sam exclaimed as the wall was already shuddering back up. He looked back to see Irene vaulting over the wall, but they had another issue: the ceiling was collapsing again. “Damn it! Run!”

“Never stopped!” she piped, bolting right past him. Flashes of moonlight and water flew past as they heard stalactites crumble and what little of the underground castle remained disintegrated behind them. They arrived at a wide gap in the cave floor. A creek trickled at the bottom of the ravine, threatening with leg-breaking rocks.

Sam cleared the gap in an easy leap, but he skidded to a halt. He looked across to see her trying to find an alternate way across. “There’s no other way, shorty, you’ve gotta jump!”

She turned an affronted glare at him. “Sam, I don’t have hops like you do. Make jokes but I actually have to interact with this place differently than you.”

He was watching the falling catastrophe behind her. “You’ll be fine. I’m over here already. Throw your bag and then I’ll catch you.”

“Does the look on my face say no?” she pointed at herself. “Because I’m saying no!”

“Irene, throw the goddamn bag!” he yelled.

Instead he felt his heart move in the same ellipse she did to double back, avoid fallen rubble, and then have a running start to spring over the ravine. To her credit, she almost made it.

Sam caught her arm, gritting his teeth as her body slammed into the side of the crevasse. The air was knocked out of her, with no grip to hold onto him. “I’ve gotcha,” he growled, more for himself. “Come on…give me your other arm.”

She did, and they landed on the floor heaving air. This side of the cave, at least, was not collapsing. “I take back anything I ever said about you being light.”

“You never said…” she began, but she ran out of air.

“Good.”

He heaved himself to his feet and rummaged in his jacket pockets for his lighter and cigarettes. Facing the river, the lighter opened with its pleasant _ching!_ and sparked near the end—

Two fingers swiped the cigarette right out of his mouth. “Uh. _Explain,_ please. Hey!”

Irene ripped the filter off, threw the tobacco into the water, and pocketed the filter. “You leaving a trail of nicotine and butts around isn’t helping us.”

“What?” he exclaimed, only mildly amused at her audacity.

“All anyone has to do is follow the smell of cigarettes to know where we are.”

“Uh, I think the trail of destruction will do that just fine, since the natural feng shui would get rid of the smoke anyway.”

She reared back, her brows lifted. “You actually know the definition of feng shui.”

“Yeah,” he declared as he pocketed the lighter. “Wind and water working together to clear out stale air, demons, and all that. The Chinese made hills and lakes to change wind currents. I earned that cigarette for saving your ass.”

“It’s shitty for your lungs. You’re not saving me by destroying yourself.”

“Well, you’re a swell vegan environmentalist for throwing it into the river.” He held up the wrapper from his pocket as testament to her hypocrisy.

Irene defended, “The paper and tobacco leaves will disintegrate by tomorrow, but the filter won’t.” She held up her own trash from her pocket. “And I’m vegetarian. Not that it matters.”

She began to move past him as he remarked, “But if I like my steak cooked to medium, I don’t want you taking that out of my mouth either.”

“Just how I like my eggs,” she retorted, and then admitted, “Thank you, though…Drake?”

“Hm?” he frowned before he realized, “Oh, Sam. Samuel Drake, but Nadine uses the latter part when she’s particularly not fond of me. She’s the one who gave you this…” He gestured to his cheek for the scrape on her own. “Chloe’s the self-proclaimed leader of this job… You don’t look like an Irene.”

Her head sagged to the side. “I’d rather not have my name be ridiculed, thanks.”

“Okay, sorry,” he said as they made their way through the caverns. The floor rippled and flowed like the surface of water, long since dry but still carved from the river’s current. “If it’s any consolation, the name ‘Samuel’ is translated in two ways. ‘God has heard,’ or ‘name of God.’ I spent my teens in a Catholic orphanage, so you can imagine how that spread like fire.”

There was a second of silence as she absorbed that. “Did kids pretend you had the answers to tests and the nuns thought you cheated or something?”

“No, but the nuns despised me for plenty of other reasons,” Sam chuckled. “It was funny, since I was one of the oldest and it was a joke, but it also helped the younger kids look up to me. That is, until my brother’s name was also researched. Nathan.”

He eyed her, but as she held his gaze, waiting for him to continue, he faltered, “Nathan Drake? You’ve never heard of him?”

Irene frowned warily. “No? Would I know it for good or bad reasons?”

Sam processed that and had to pause their stride. “You’re really not a part of this side of society, are you? You don’t know any thieves.”

She shrugged. “The three of you are the first I’ve met. And I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you’re finding anything here.”

He sauntered back into pace, and she moved with him. “Losing faith so quickly?”

She gave him a dubious expression. “Doesn’t it seem like this place has been cleared out? And we’ve only found one guard? Still at his post? If the place was ransacked, he would be lying somewhere else, wouldn’t he?”

Sam lightly chewed on his lip. He did not want to admit that his and Chloe’s leads were dimly lit, at best. “Or there was something here that was so great, it inspired that kind of loyalty: to guard even when there’s nothing left. Guard the air that held it and die on your feet. The greatest find I’ve ever had, I nearly gave up a few times. I did at one point. But I still found it.

“Anyways, my little brother, Nathan. His name means ‘gift from God.’ The thing about Nathan…he’s always been a quick learner. Too quick. Whether it was books, smarts, or fighting, he got everything fast, and the other kids didn’t like that. I mean, hell, they were orphans while we had merely been dumped there. We had known our parents, we had clothes that weren’t handed down, all that. So, what with me being ‘God’ and him being a gift from me…the taunts got nasty. They went after our mom, they said anything their adolescent brains could put together, which wasn’t much, but it was enough. I had to kick a lot of asses to keep Nathan from hearing. Got me booted right out the day I turned seventeen.”

She looked up at him. “Seventeen?”

“I think they hoped I would go into the military,” Sam laughed. “The orphanage was technically my guardian, and they were giving full support to hand me over to the government. I was as close to eighteen as they could tolerate.”

“Was he okay?”

“From that whole nonsense? Yeah, kids, you know, move on to other stuff. He had his own fights to handle.”

“Uh. Is he okay _now?”_

“Yes,” Sam nodded so low he bowed, “yes, he’s doin’ great. Better than great. He’s married and living a civilian life… This seems a little peculiar.”

They arrive at the wall of the cavern, against which, was a table. It was not a hulking slab like the one in the conference chamber; it seemed nothing more than a storage table. Arranged atop it were goblets, tools, short candelabras, and other domestic things. Sam lifted one of the silver mirrors too tarnished to provide a reflection while Irene voiced, “You seem a little…maybe not bitter, but salty at that.”

His smile curved to the side. “I’m not salty. I’m happy for him, really. His wife’s a canon, thank god. She’d need to be to handle him. You’re actually not that far off from her heighth.”

A flat hand patted the top of her head, where he felt grit in her hair. “Did you fall in that explosion too?”

“Yeah, and then blowing the doors off nearly threw me into the water.”

He chuckled. “Sorry about that, and for cutting the bridge. If I’d seen you, I would’ve waited.”

“Really?” she asked as he set the mirror back down.

He peeked at her with a kind smirk. “I didn’t go to prison for mistreating women. So why’s all this stuff here? What’s your guess?”

Irene looked over it all and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe it didn’t make it into the move. Maybe these caves were used for storage and this stuff has been waiting for guests to use it ever since—”

Irene’s hand flew up to grab his triceps, only to let go and keep rising. Sam realized both hands were lifting in surrender, and he looked back to see two firearms aimed at her. On one side of Irene stood Chloe. On the other, behind Sam, was Nadine.

“Chloe, Nadine, nice to see you again so soon.”

“Let’s go, Sam,” Chloe ordered.

“Sure,” he chimed, “after the two of you relax and lower the guns.”

“We’re not splitting a treasure five ways,” Nadine growled. “Especially not with _this_ loose canon.”

Sam’s curiosity piqued. “Have you found something?”

Chloe glared at him but swung her newly acquired pistol down. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s get going.”

“How did you even get here?” he asked. “You would’ve had to come the same way we did.”

Nadine snapped, “These caves are one big circle, dumbass. We’re literally moving in circles. The house is the center, and there’s nothing bloody under it!”

Silence fell over them as Chloe inhaled with raised brows. “Okay…anything else you want to let out?”

Nadine finally lowered her magnum and gestured between her and Sam. “You know what, I agree with Sam. I don’t feel like being chased by dogs up there and soldiers down here, all because you found a pair of earrings that may lead to something bigger. I work with assurance, and it would be easier if we actually knew whatever the hell we were looking for!”

Irene perked up from where she had slowly rotated to face them. “Wait. What?” She looked among them, her hands dropping a notch. “You have _no_ idea what you’re here for?”

“If you’re so clever, why are you here, then?” Chloe sharpened.

Irene shook her head with lifted brows. “I’m not here for any treasure.”

“Well that’s good, because if we actually manage to find any, you’re not getting any share of it,” Nadine spat. She gestured with her firearm, “I also think it’s about time you told us what you’re doing down here, getting in our way and causing trouble for us.”

Irene was stoic. “I’d rather keep that to myself.”

Nadine huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re serious.”

“You’re so hot for assurance. That gun’s not inspiring any for me.”

“Which means I’m likely to shoot you after you tell us,” Nadine deduced.

“I think you’re likely to shoot anyone you deem a nuisance.”

Nadine smirked at Sam. “God knows I’ve wanted to—”

Irene twisted the magnum out of her hand the same moment she kicked the pistol from Chloe’s. She darted after it, spinning to face them and catching both women in mid-bound. Sam held his hands up. “Hey, I’m all for alpha women—they’re even my preference—but three in one place is…it’s scary as shit, alright?”

Then they watched Irene pushed the discharge on the handles, the magazines slid out, and she tossed the firearms away. “Let’s just be clear: I don’t like guns, but I’m familiar.” She bent to retrieve the bullets. “Is this enough assurance for you?”

However they did not get the chance to answer. Red laser points lit up on Sam, Nadine, and Chloe, and Irene dropped the magazines in their direction while diving out of the way. They scattered as gunfire peppered around them. Nadine and Chloe scooped up their weapons and reloaded, but there was no cover in this cavern. They chased after Irene, turning into the rounded archway, finding themselves back in a section of cave that was divided by ravines and canals. Sam and Nadine huddled on either side of the archway, taking turns firing—

A grenade landed between them, and they rolled away from it. Nadine met with Chloe and they watched helplessly as an RPG landed near Sam’s feet. He was thrown far from them, where he landed on the edge of a ravine, and rolled out of sight.

“Shit! Shit! SAM!” Chloe cried, sprinting to the edge, but no sooner did she see his body at the bottom, then she and Nadine ducked under fire.

“We have to get out of here!” Nadine ordered.

Chloe grit her teeth, cursing again, “Shit!” but let Nadine lead her out of the caverns while they agreed, “We’ll search the house again, damn it, since the party’s down here. He better be alive and awake when we’re done!”

Behind them, the chaos died down in the wake of gunfire and heavy boots thundering out of the caves. The place was silent in the moments that followed, enough for the soft whistle of wind to be heard. Irene peeped her head over the edge of a lower ledge, searching for any sign of danger. Staying in a crouch, she climbed up and found where Sam had fallen. Clumsily easing herself down, she navigated roughly three stories of ledges and handholds. She turned Sam over. He had landed on his side, his head smacking the ground.

“Sam? Sam?” she urged, patting his face while a hand held his nape up so his windpipe fell open. Air seeped out…and back in.

“Sam. _Sam,_ I need you to wake up. You have a concussion,” she pleaded, but as a small puddle pooled out of his hair onto the stone and sand, she lifted the side of his hip and she found the transceiver—smashed to pieces. “Fuck.”

She heaved her bag off her shoulders, and extracted a coil of rope as well as a small tin of first-aid supplies. Ripping open a sachet of sugar, she mixed it on the lid with a dab of antiseptic gel. Prying Sam’s hair apart, she fount the tear in his scalp and smeared the paste over it. It was messy, but it would work for what she needed to do.

She sprinted to either side of the ravine to find the lowest points. Thankfully, near the water was a thin beach that ramped up to the caverns. Irene returned to wind the rope around Sam’s torso, in roughly a figure eight formation so that she could heave his upper body up. “Jesus Christ, Sam. You’re all shoulders,” she cursed while she had to reconfigure to carry his weight. She left the rope around him but fed the rest through his jacket sleeve. Like a stirrup in her palm, she was able to hold his arm around her shoulders while her other hand gripped his belt. His legs would have to drag.

Sam’s head fell low on his chest, and Irene bobbed to get his head back, but the way it lolled made her stifle a giggle. “Don’t laugh,” she whispered, pressing her lips together. “Don’t laugh. He’s dying, we gotta go.”

With Phantom chasing after Nadine and Chloe, the subterranean levels were open, but it was a small blessing. She felt her heart rate escalate as she maneuvered through the caverns, pounding as she focused on hers and Sam’s breathing. She fell into a rhythm, finding a spot in her balance where his weight could rest, but the going was long. “Goddamn it, Sam, where are those boats you were talking about?”

She never found them. Instead, she arrived in a cavern with a beach around a lagoon facing the river…and a plane.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” she exclaimed as she lowered Sam like the deadweight he was. She clumsily caught his head while she otherwise crashed onto her rear end. “Sam! Sam, hey! Wake up! Now’s the time to wake up.”

It was hard to tell whether he had stopped bleeding, as his and her jackets were smeared garnet. Dumping out her backpack’s contents, she found what she needed to start a fire…but there was not much fuel to speak of in the cave. Whatever wood had washed up was wet, and she decided what little tinder was there would need to be used later. 

Untying the rope around him, she started prying his limbs out of his clothes, along with her own. Folding his raiment and aligning his shoes over the pile, she stuffed it all into a massive zip-lock bag. Into her backpack it went, and then she retied the rope around Sam. She dragged him to the water’s edge, and stepped into it.

Intense cold encompassed her feet, throbbing yet numb. “Sam, I swear to god, if you don’t wake up through this…”

She laid down, testing how Sam’s weight rested on her torso. She hooked her arm around his chest, through the rope cage around him, but his head barely rested high enough on her shoulder to keep on the surface. For a striking second, as she held his face from tilting into the water, Irene stifled a sob. _“Sam, please.”_

She had to swim. She had to keep both of their faces afloat. The plane looked much farther away from within the water. Tilting slightly so he was higher and she could use her free arm to pull them backward, waves lapped over their heads every few inches. Every moment above water had to count, inhaling with as much control as she could manage while frigid, and checking that Sam was not gargling.

Terror spiked through her when something touched her head: a chunk of slush. She heaved another inhalation and pulled.

Pulling. 

Pulling.

The plane was right there, hulking and dark and looming above her. Right _here._ It took all Irene had to hold onto a second of patience and make sure Sam’s face was open to the sky.

_Boom._

_Boom._

“Come on!” she cried, feeling panic lacing her voice as she used the bob of the water to lift her high enough to pound on the metal of the plane. _BoomboomBOOM!_

The door opened with a growled, “What the hell?...Oh my god. Sam? Sam!”

Irene was just short of drowning, but she saw the man reach for them. Pushing Sam up and herself under, she felt when he was lifted out of her grasp.

Something akin to madness drove her up, breaching the surface and finding the man’s glowing cigar over her. “Get in here, kid! Holy hell, what happened?”

Irene accepted his outstretched hand and climbed into the plane, landing on her knees while she worked on autopilot, opening her backpack, jerkily yanking out the bag of clothes. The man—significantly older than herself or Sam, with his silver hair and mustache—was exclaiming. “Jesus, how long has he been unconscious?”

Then his gaze landed on her: freezing in her undergarments as she dumped his clothes out, threw a packaged foil blanket at him, and resealed the bags. “Hey, hey! Wait! You’re going to freeze out there!”

“Don’t worry about it,” she grit, and threw herself out of the plane.

Victor could not stop her, and with Sam nearly naked on the floor of his metal plane, he had to focus on drying him off and wrapping as much of his long body in the foil as possible.

* * * * * * *

Irene cursed her hands for trembling so hard that she barely got the tinder glowing with a small fire. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to put feeling back into her fingers and feet after she hastily dried herself in a washcloth and dressed. She wrung out her gloves and traded them for a softer pair meant for warmth instead of climbing. Finally donning a beanie, the fire went out, and she had to get moving.

Getting back to the house was slow, but easy. Especially since she did not have to go into it. Her hair felt like a frozen helmet under her beanie as she peered around her, jogging to the back door—

Shouting and a burst of sound, like wood breaking, made her exchange her grip on the knob for running around the house, where Chloe and Nadine were leaving with haste.

“Chloe! Nadine!” she cried. There was no way she would catch up with them, but she ran towards lower ground and inhaled deep into her lungs. “CHLOE! THE PLANE’S THIS WAY!”

Fresh gunfire distorted her words, but Chloe heard her name and ‘plane’ loud and eager. The women swerved towards her, bounding into the trees to lose the line of snipers. Irene heard Nadine bellowing into her transceiver, “Victor! Where are you?”

“He’s this way!” Irene curtailed. “Can you swim?”

“We need to get Sam!”

“He’s in the plane!”

“He is?”

Sullivan’s voice was answering but they did not have the silence or the calm for it. Chloe saw what Irene was aiming for: a low hanging cliff beside the river. “Oh boy, oh boyOHBOY!”

The three of them soared through the darkness, aiming for the glittering moonlight on the water, and the giant insect of a plane that was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anybody watch Retro Replay on Youtube and the episode where Troy Baker defends his pronunciation of 'heighth' instead of 'height'? Sam pronounces it the same way haha
> 
> Also, sugar in first aid is an old wive's tale sort of remedy. I don't recommend it haha but Irene's thinking on the fly, here, and I like the idea of her keeping sugar in her medical supplies.


	6. Fifteen Dollar Suit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now we're working with Uncharted 4 Sam who's thinner than beefy Lost Legacy Sam. Irene would have drowned under Lost Legacy Sam lol

Sam woke up sore. Real. Sore. It took him a long time to realize his eyes were open and he was no longer sleeping, but Chloe’s face arriving in his field of vision helped inspire movement...which only made him feel worse.

“Holy shit, Sam,” she laughed breathily.

“Yeah, that’s how I feel,” he groaned, not recognizing his voice. Chloe reached back for a bottle of water as he managed to sit up. He was surprised and glad that it was warm, and realized he was lying in the plane next to a space heater. “Where are we flying?”

“We’ve already landed,” Chloe said.

“Where’s Tricks?”

“She’s getting coffees. It’s been a rough few hours. We didn’t think it was a good idea to move you after we finally got you warmed up. Why didn’t you call us when you woke up?”

He was scrubbing a hand over his long stubble, filing a note to shave the moment he had access to a bathroom. He peered up at Chloe. “Wake up? I just did wake up.”

When he met a perplexed frown on her face, he elaborated, “The last thing I remember is...an old mirror, maybe an explosion, having a violent dream about Antarctica, and now I’m here.”

A soft whistle pulled their attention to the cockpit, where Sullivan was reading a book and pointing to the chair beside him. Sam heaved himself up, feeling stiffer than ever in his neck and shoulder as he leaned against the dividing wall to see…a burrito of every blanket Sullivan had sitting in the copilot seat. The bag at its feet was familiar. Sam felt an obnoxious sentiment attached to it before he remembered, _Irene._

He looked at Victor, who remarked, “You’ll be buying her a stiff drink later. You’ll be buying her whatever she wants, in fact.”

“What are you saying?” Sam breathed, wanting nothing more than at least seven cups of coffee.

“I’m saying that this little lady saved your ass.”

Sam barely had the headspace to absorb that. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the passenger seat attached to the wall as he palmed his head. “What the hell is in my hair?”

“Besides your own blood?” Victor replied, “First aid. Courtesy of Irene. That bag a’hers is full of tricks, and her sheer gall got you to my plane.”

“Wait, Victor,” Chloe intercepted. “What you’re saying is impossible. Sam was knocked out nowhere near your plane.”

“I don’t know anything about that. All I’m saying is I was in here, waiting to hear from you, when I nearly had the shit scared out of me by someone knocking on the door. In the middle of a river. What do I find, but a damn near naked woman drowning under Sam’s weight. After I pulled him inside, she dumped his clothes out of her bag, and swam back into the caves. She kept your damn clothes dry.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It was a brilliant rescue apart from the time of year. Then the three of you swan dived to your hypothermic deaths, stripped down to pile on top of Sam for body warmth, and somehow, you’re all alive.”

“Well I’m sorry I missed that,” Sam teased. He blinked against the grey dawn coming in through the windows. The light made a dull headache bloom into greater awareness. “I’m sure I will never again mention that Nadine and I were naked together.”

“If you want to keep your head on your shoulders,” Chloe agreed, giving his shoulder a pat as she went back to her seat. “Speaking of.”

Nadine arrived with two trays of coffees. Sam finished the water bottle and then let the black caffeine soak through him…right before the plane tilted with nausea. Sam set the coffee down to rub his temples while Sullivan nudged Irene with her coffee. “Hey, doll. This will set you right.”

She roused enough to take the cup, but not much else. Sam noticed the pile of sopping wet clothes in the back of the plane. Chloe and Nadine were freshly dressed, but they had small suitcases. “Irene, are you dressed under there or do we need to get you clothes?”

_“Dreshed,”_ she managed to say around her granola bar.

Victor announced, “We’ll stop by a laundry place while we're here.”

“Good,” Sam murmured, finding his denim jacket and rubbing a hand over the dried blood on it. He looked up when Irene was carefully maneuvering toward the door of the plane. “Where are you going?”

“A pharmacy.”

“Where are we?” he began to ask, but Chloe was stabbing him with a look. _Go with her!_ “Uh—I'll join you. Yeah. Need to find a way to get blood out of denim.”

He frowned at her while she chimed, “Nadine and I will work on hotel arrangements.”

Irene shed the blankets like a chrysalis. “Don’t worry ‘bout folding them,” Victor intercepted. “It’s all going into a washing machine.”

She picked up her shoes from in front of the space heater, and exited the plane to pull them on over the tarmac. Behind her, Sam asked, “But seriously, where are we?”

“Outside of Paris.”

They went into the small operator’s booth of the private airfield. The middle-aged man was kind enough to grab the phone and ask, “Taxi?”

“Yes, please,” Irene nodded. “Thank you.”

Sam finished his coffee and tossed it in the nearest wastebasket with the mild complaint, “Things are smaller in Europe.” He peered down at Irene handing over her coffee. “You’re not a coffee drinker?”

“It gives me headaches.”

He accepted and sighed into the lid, “Well my head's raging right now.”

“You’ve got a concussion. You were asleep for hours. You should be in a hospital.”

“A hospital’s just a prison with better medicine,” he teased as he ran a hand through his hair, trying for a semblance of order to his hair. He peeked at Irene’s messy curtain of brown hair before she tossed it over one shoulder and pulled her aubergine hood over it. It rustled like a parka, but the jacket was not nearly as big as one. “You must be wildly good at Tetris to fit a closet, kitchen, and medicine cabinet in there.”

She adjusted the strap of the bag while a beat up, green car arrived with a honk. Sam lifted his cup to the booth operator in thanks and followed her into the backseat, where he heard in heavily accented French, “Where are you going?”

“Where’s the best coffee shop in Paris?”

He coughed, which might have been his version of a laugh. “Starbucks.”

Sam whispered to himself, “The French are always kind—”

“Buvez-vous de la pisse ou du café?”

That wiped the derision off the cab driver’s face as Sam stared at Irene. “You speak French?”

She let the momentum of the car push her spine against the seat. “When I have to.”

Sam smirked at the driver’s reflection in the rear view and asked in a hushed tone, “What did you say to shut him up?”

“Do you drink piss or coffee?”

He laughed a long time, watching the forestry around them dissolve into civilization. “Man, the nuns would’ve fainted hearing you speak. No thanks,” he held a hand against the granola bar offered to him. “I’ll be on fluids today. Looking at the sky too long makes me feel nauseous… Why are we going to a coffee shop when you don’t drink coffee?”

“I need to eat a proper breakfast. Hopefully if they care about the drink, they’ll care about the eats too. Then hopefully I can get medicine before pneumonia moves into my lungs.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. Then, “Thanks. For…sticking around for me.”

“Sure.”

She was looking out the window, and they both left it at that.

* * * * * * *

“This place, it doesn’t like tourists. It’s in the cellar, out of the way, for a reason,” their cab driver warned them.

“Duly noted. Thanks.” Sam paid the man with a tip for not harassing them after Irene’s comment. She was already opening the door and heading down a flight of stairs when Sam caught the door she was holding with her gloved fingertips.

Brick walls and crackling fires, they walked into an atmosphere of heat and café noise. She and Sam shed their outer layer simultaneously while café regulars peered at them. Sam moved at a slower pace behind her, arriving at a worn, dark leather couch in front of a fireplace, where he draped his jacket over the buttons.

“What do you like?” she asked when she noticed him lagging behind.

“Surprise me.”

He wandered among the low bookshelves dividing the café; the books were on the outside of the sections to appease the personal space of patrons. When it sounded like it was time to pay, he blocked Irene’s phone, the back of its case open to reveal a wallet. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he laughed breathily, still not quite believing that this person was responsible for his life. “I’m sure.”

At the end of the counter, a tray was placed with two drinks, which Sam carried to their couch. “Which one’s mine?”

She moved the round, glass cup before him, and took the tall, cylindrical one. His unfamiliar expression bid her to say, “It’s a flat white.”

“It looks like a latte.”

“It’s a latte that smacks your ass.”

“Oh, marvelous.” He sipped and felt the back of his eyes tingle pleasantly. Then he eyed the bottles she was setting on the table. “What are those?”

“Nutritional value. Kiwis or mangoes?”

“Mangoes,” he chose, and she handed him the yellow smoothie.

A barista arrived with a plate of eggs, toast, and a croissant topped with sliced almonds. Irene thanked her and dived into her black tea latte and poached eggs.

Sam could not say he was surprised at the men of the café taking turns to look at her. She shoved all of her hair to one side, out of the way, but to them it was a curtain of bedhead opportunity. He shook his head over his beverage. “It’s like prison again.”

She peered back at him from her stance over the coffee table, and then her eyes flicked to a pair of men chuckling over what sounded like a jeer, if their tone was anything by which to go.

Irene replied, “Les américains peuvent parler français. Poulets mouillées.”

The pair went quiet while an elderly man chuckled over his newspaper and a giggle was heard from a barista. Sam returned his glass to his lips. Irene finished her eggs and leaned back into the couch with her croissant and tea. “Dare I ask what you said—?”

“Hush, Sam. It’s croissant time.”

“Are you going to take off the gloves?” he scoffed.

“Can’t be bothered,” she purred, leaning back and letting flakes decorate her shirt.

* * * * * * *

Irene was shaking her bottle when they were strolling over the pavement, struggling to open the green smoothie’s lid before she handed it off, “Could you open this, please?”

After passing it back to her, Sam looked at a message on his phone. “Boy am I glad I left this in the plane.”

“Look at you with a phone,” she chimed. “Touch screen and everything.” He gave her a look while she smirked into the mouth of the bottle.

“The others are in a café of their own. We’ll head over after you get your pharmacy.”

On cue, he followed her underneath a sign sticking out from the building shaped like a green cross, and into the sterile shelves of a tightly packed shop. He followed her blindly until he realized it was full of household hygiene products. “It’s been a long time since I had to get blood out of something…”

“Stain treatments have gotten better,” Irene mumbled, distractedly reading boxes. “Or baking soda. Your jacket’s still fresh. Just soak and wash it a few times.”

Sam paused in his step towards a different aisle, but then he reconsidered it as not strange for her to know that. They met at the cash register, where they dumped an unusual assortment in front of the cashier. She said some things to Irene in French that the latter answered in two words or less. Sam paid.

“Are you going to pay for everything?” Irene wondered as they made their way to meet the others.

“Until I run out of euros,” he confirmed.

“Thanks,” she partially scoffed, and then dumped dissolvable vitamin-c into her water bottle before taking four pills.

“I’ll take one of those aspirins.”

“Drink out of the bottle, not the mouthpiece.”

“Germ-o-phobe.”

“You’re welcome.”

He could not tease her further, however, for her health was visibly plummeting as the moments passed. By the time they landed in seats opposite Victor, Nadine, and Chloe, she was silent and nursing the smoothie as well as a hot herbal tea.

“Pleasant shopping?” Chloe greeted.

“Yes, actually,” Sam threw back.

“Our next step is the auction,” Nadine cut to business. She scowled while Sam looked pleased with himself.

“I enjoy a reason to dress up. Only issue is, the one tux I have lost its jacket to the Rossi Estate, and the rest of it isn’t in much better shape.”

Chloe chuckled, “Were you planning on using Victor’s closet again?”

The man himself answered, “My shirts are one thing, but my suits won’t fit you. But it’s not a problem. I know a guy here. Alexander McQueen suits for fifteen dollars.”

Sam stared at him for a long minute before he put an elbow on the table. _“Fifteen dollar designer suit?”_

Victor shrugged like it was nothing, whereas Nadine was looking at Irene. “I suppose you’ll be joining us.”

Irene appeared blank while Chloe remarked, “About that. Listen, you can’t fly off the handle at this thing. It’s the last lead we have, and powerful, dangerous people will be all around us.”

“I’m not going.”

Nadine waited for Chloe’s reaction to that, but the latter laughed. “Yes you are, honey, because we sure as shit aren’t letting you vanish and reappear as a liability later.”

Victor shifted in his seat. “The two o’you might wanna lighten up on her. I see a bag of meds, and it’s because—”

“They’ve been riding Irene since she showed up, Sully,” Sam curtailed.

But Sullivan watched Irene stand to go to the counter. Since she had not finished her current drink, he was more inclined to think she wanted to be away from Chloe and Nadine. Leaning his weight on his elbows, he narrowed in on them, “How far were you in those caves when things went to shit?”

They glanced at each other. “Six kilometers, give or take,” Nadine replied.

“So Irene had to carry or drag Sam six kilometers, give or take, swim through damn near frozen water to reach my plane, and then swim back and go after the two of you. Whatever her motives are, she’s on our side for now. And if lugging this idiot for roughly four miles doesn’t cut it, I’m not sure what does.”

Chloe and Nadine were contemplative for a while. As she lifted her coffee to her lips, the former acquiesced with a look at Sam, “She’s saved me from a tirade from your brother, at least.”

Sullivan had turned his gaze back to Irene, his brow furrowing. “How much do you think you have on her?”

Sam glanced behind him. He huffed a laugh. “A foot taller and…be generous and say eighty pounds? More like a hundred.”

The men fell silent as Chloe snickered to Nadine, “They look like they’re trying to solve calculus, don’t they?”

Sam peered at her. “You saying you believe it?”

She and Nadine leaned towards each other in some sort of mutual female agreement. Sam silently held up his hands in surrender while Victor chuckled but said on a serious note, “Sam, I saw it. She put your clothes in a goddamn zip-lock, swam your ass through the river, and had one of those fancy tinfoil blankets ready. It’s in my plane if you need the proof.” He glanced behind him and pushed himself out of his chair. “Maybe she had a summer job as a life guard.”

He left them at the table to stand with Irene where customers picked up their beverages. “I come in peace,” he soothed to her unwelcome gaze. “You don’t have anything nice to wear, do you?”

She seemed unwilling to answer, and her weak, uneven voice justified it. “I don’t have the money for it, either.”

“Don’t worry about that. You just work on getting yourself back to reasonable health. We’ve got a few days.”

“Days?” she repeated with no small amount of skepticism.

He gave her an apologetic shrug but added lightly, “The nice thing about traveling with women: they put in the extra effort for nice digs. Chloe managed to find one o’those…internet BnB things. It’s a whole apartment to ourselves. You got your own room.”

“Can we go now?”

That caught him by surprise. “You don’t have a drink coming?”

“I’m not waiting on anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read somewhere ages ago that if someone passes/is knocked out, if they're asleep for longer than 10 minutes, get their ass to a hospital. Drakes are made of lead, obviously.
> 
> "Les américains peuvent parler français." - The Americans can speak French.  
> I read that "Poulets mouillées", meaning wet chickens, is a unique insult for cowards in France.


	7. Strike and a Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bi energy is strong in this one.

“This is a strange curve of events,” Sam remarked. He brushed his hands over his silken lapels, and twisted his forearms to check the cuffs as the car turned sharply—“Hey, hey, primping back here.”

Chloe teased, “You trying to look nice for Francine Madeleine?”

“Well if we don’t, we get kicked from the party,” he reminded.

As Nadine watched the Parisian landscape fade and the countryside enclosed around them, she voiced, “You’re sure Victor will show up?”

Sam chuckled from the backseat. “For the amount of effort he’s putting into this evening, I think so. The guy’s been pulling strings all day to get Irene black tie ready. It’s almost like he’s enjoying himself. He’ll show up with a young beauty on his arm and be the talk of the auction until everyone remembers the items they’re after.”

 Chloe glanced at Nadine, “You don’t think she can overpower Sully, do you?”

The other woman snorted. “Her combat is clumsy, inexperienced. The element of surprise is all she has, but she won’t surprise me anymore.”

“So long as the social butterfly is on her best behavior. Did either of you see her after we settled in Paris?”

Nadine replied, “Only sounds and glimpses, which is fine by me. I’m not wanting to get sick because of a Drake.”

Said Drake responded, “You oughta thank her for keeping such lovely company around. You’d miss me.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t—ow, damn it.”

“Sorry,” Chloe announced. “Bumpy road.”

The chateau was well out of the way of any city; their luxury car—which none of them had asked how Chloe acquired it—descended into thick forests that opened to a road entangled in a hedge maze, but not before they were blocked by a mechanic, though wrought iron, gate. Sam lamented, “Getting out of here will be a task.”

“Let’s get in first,” Chloe hushed.

“With what invitation?” Nadine exclaimed.

“Oh, these sorts of parties check invitations at the door,” the former explained. “But party crashers get caged in ahead of time.”

Sam picked up, “So if this goes south in a hurry, we’re screwed already.”

For now, they had a guard wave them through the gates and a security team guiding them along the roads. Chloe cruised around the hedges until the asphalt switched to bricks that led through the impressive estate.

“They love showing off before you even park, huh?” Sam observed the buildings making the estate look more like a village. Glistening antique cars stared back at them from horse stables renovated into garages. Barrels were stacked underneath hanging signs. The less important structures featured overgrown ivy, while the house itself was immaculate. Gardens with long rectangular pools were on one side of the house, while rolling vineyards stretched into the opposite distance.

“There’s Sullivan,” Sam declared with relief.

Chloe fell in line with the other cars parking along the side of the house. Sam exited the car, giving himself another once over so that his tuxedo jacket was free of any lint. He had doubted Sullivan’s fashion connection, but the heavy silk around him was not a lie. He felt like a show horse: black, shining, and ridiculous.

“What’re you so stiff for?” Victor noticed when he approached.

“I’m wearing a mortgage for a suit,” he exclaimed. “And did it have to be so shiny?”

“Trust me, you’re boring compared to some of the get-ups in there. People are dressed like it’s a royal wedding. Here.”

“How’d you get these?” Chloe laughed as they accepted the small but thick cardstock invitations. “Doing my work for me. Not that I’m complaining.”

Victor was lighting a cigar. “I’ve still got one or two folks on my side, and I happened to run into him while out with Irene.”

Nadine intercepted, “Where is our unexpected guest of honor?”

“She’s in my car, clearing out her sinuses. She’ll enter with me, but you all go on ahead. Get the lay of the land, and have a scotch waiting for me.”

Sam slid his invitation inside his jacket once they were past the four _large_  men dressed in black suits with black shirts and ties. Similar individuals were near every open corridor, because the inside was nothing short of a palace. Wooden or marble floors below, elaborate crown molding above, they passed through a marble foyer, and then the ballroom was on the other side. The layout was simple enough to understand: a guest’s path was linear, and all other rooms were restricted.

The ballroom was massive. It was two towering floors, which allowed for impressive staircases on diagonal corners. Nearly floor to ceiling windows illuminated the guests with the dwindling afternoon light, and chandeliers hanging at various lengths twinkled above them. An underground style of jazz was playing from invisible speakers. Waiters in slacks, black shirts, and black waistcoats toted beverages and hors d’oeuvres. A circular fountain was in the center of the room, around which black clothed tables were attended by a similarly black-clad catering staff. The options were decadent but served sparingly: thinly sliced roast and cheese, silver fish and grape clusters, etc.

“Get a table,” Nadine said without making eye contact. “I’ll see how things are from the bar.”

“Your choice,” Sam passed off to Chloe, likewise walking away.

She purred with mirth, “Behave, Sam.”

For all around the room, on both floors, were black plinths on which rested bulletproof glass boxes protecting worldly treasures. Sam strolled passed one that held an illuminated colorful headpiece. Based on the people loitering around it, it had long since been stolen from Korean culture. Another displayed two jeweled Persian daggers on acrylic stands. A crown believed to have been lost in civil war was sparkling in another. An English tapestry and an Iranian carpet served as dividers of the space, expertly directing the flow of human traffic. There were mummified feet still wearing golden toe rings; medieval devices used for torture or pleasure, who could tell; and a worse for wear book that was open to sketches looking suspiciously like a certain Italian artist’s.

Sam headed upstairs and found what he was looking for: diamonds. Various colors and shapes were all around, but the one he strolled up to was small, and in a case all by itself. Its peachy pink color and irregular pentagon shape stood out among the ovals, squares and rectangles...

On the other side of it, Sam recognized Victor entering upon the ground floor. And walking in behind him, was Irene. Sam let his feet take him to the balcony, where he watched her begin a lethargic lap around the room.

He met Chloe at the table she had chosen: next to a window so they had a shard of light but were hidden in the shadows behind it. Nadine and Victor arrived at their table at almost the same time, all of them standing around it since there were no seats. Victor lifted his tumbler with a gruff, “Don’t you love tables that are for drinking instead of sitting?”

“Sully,” Chloe began.

“Hm?”

“Did it occur to you, by chance, to make Irene as _unnoticeable_  as possible?”

The men followed her stiff nod toward Irene strolling toward them. Sam’s brow twitched with a furrow, not quite sure what Chloe meant, but also not quite sure what Irene was wearing. Her hair hung in lazy waves, her side part elegantly arcing and curving around her face. Her slender frame was wrapped in a black lace long-sleeve tunic with rectangular black pieces along the back of her arms and waist, accentuating an avant garde, feminine yet androgynous shape. The lace gave way to silk harem pants, elegantly cinched tightly around her waist, billowing around her knees, and then tapering back over her shins and ankles. Pointed, black oxfords were on her feet with enough heel to provide a lovely line throughout her arch.

In short, she looked _good_. Her skin shined in a way that turned heads, and her silk gloves from fingertip to elbow made her aloof, untouchable. Sam realized what it was: she was not wearing makeup.

Sullivan answered, “What? It’s certainly not like she’s the only person here wearing all black.”

Sam crooned, “You know that’s not what they’re staring at.”

Sullivan shrugged. “Don’t worry. I know better than anyone how the one thing that will turn heads away from money is a beautiful face. I told her to walk in like she owned the joint. I’d say she’s working the room just fine.”

Irene’s gaze drifted toward their table as if she was just now noticing it, and she arrived with a long sigh. “Are we done yet?”

Victor barked a laugh. “You sure you don’t wanna take another tour of the place? Maybe heads will pop back into place if you go in the opposite direction.”

“I am full of medication and I don’t think it’s even working.”

“Well, you look gorgeous, doll.”

“That’s quite the problem,” Chloe muttered to herself.

Irene’s expression had been neutral, but now something deflated in her. Victor plucked the cigar from his mouth. “You know, you’ve got a nasty habit of not keeping unnecessary thoughts in your head.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. But we have to leave this place without being remembered so no one jumps on our tail. A pretty face who no one’s seen before will be remembered.”

“I get it,” Irene breathed, and stepped away from the table.

Chloe caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

Irene pointed narrow eyes at her. “A pretty face alone may be forgotten alone. If I don’t associate with you, you’re fine, right?”

Victor cut in, “I’m afraid that ship has sailed. Look around. Factions are already lined up in this place if you pay attention. If we separate now, people may not think we’re here together, but they’ll know that we are familiar with each other.”

He turned to Sam. “Have you seen anything that might align with our interests?”

“Not yet, but I’ve only seen a quarter of the room.”

Victor’s weight shifted. “Now, don’t tell me you made a bee-line for the diamonds up here and forgot that we’re here for that goddamn ring on your finger.”

“Of course not!” Sam interjected. Victor was not convinced, but Sam filled the time by pulling the gold off his hand and holding it in the center of the table for them all to see. “Let’s remind ourselves, shall we? We’re looking for something with this curly plant pattern, relevant to the royal Louis. Or something to do with Emperor Aurelian, ‘the restorer of the world.’”

“Why is he called that?” Irene asked.

“During one of Rome’s many splits, this guy went around fixing things. After he pulled Gaul—or France—back into the fold, the Senate gave him that title.”

Nadine intercepted, “Something that a ring could fit into might be what we’re looking for as well, since that’s how we found it.”

Victor gestured with his cigar, “I’m willing to wager that all this is just to keep these high profile guests occupied. There will probably be more items unveiled later.”

“Then someone should check storage,” Sam agreed, pushing the ring back onto his finger and setting his hand on the tabletop near Irene. “If what we need is in there, that will be far easier to steal.”

Chloe perked up. “Irene and I can get there.”

Sam gave her a look mixed with surprise and skepticism. “No offense, but I’m the best pickpocket here, and I can fight and climb.”

“No offense,” she returned, “but the both of us combined are prettier than you. Getting past men won’t be an issue. Not to mention you’re still concussed. We can’t risk you.”

Sam’s lips pressed into a line, but he remained silent as Nadine said, “If you’re putting Sam off the hook, then Irene’s out of commission too. She doesn’t have the stamina. It’s you and me.”

“That’s just fine by me,” Chloe declared, but set her clutch bag on the table. “But if _you’re_  staying in the party, you’ll need to do something first.”

Irene’s eyes visibly sank in their sockets while she waited for that to be explained—

“You’re joking,” she realized as Chloe rummaged through the purse.

Chloe gave her a dark smirk as she set the magnetic palette on the table. She poised a pencil brush in front of Irene’s face. “Shall I do it, or you? You’ll be less conspicuous if you look like you’re trying to impress like the rest of us.”

“I’m not here to coddle some fragile patriarch’s bullshit,” Irene snapped.

“Nor are _we_  here on a feminist agenda. We’re here to be thieves. So you better paint your way into being inconspicuous, or I’ll make a scene so you get removed and you can wait on the street.”

Irene took the brush from her. “I didn’t want to be here in the fucking first place. Is this the only brush you have?”

“Yep.”

“For fuck’s sake.” She popped open the palette, only to pause at the lipstick Chloe was placing on the table. “Do you have something darker?”

Nadine looked amused while Chloe was taken by surprise. She set down another lipstick and Irene uncapped a rich crimson. Both of them stared with blunt admiration at Irene swiping it over her lips without a mirror, rolling her lips together, and then sliding her fingers along the sides of her bottom lip and the dip in her cupid’s bow. Victor surrendered his napkin to catch the excess from her lips.

“No color?” Chloe teased as she held up her phone to use as a mirror.

Irene smoked a dark brown close to her lashes above and below, as she said measuredly, “I’m aiming for sullen, sickly vampire. Like, _if you talk to me, I’ll fucking eat you._  That’s the energy I need tonight.”

Both Sam and Sullivan choked on their drinks. When he recovered, Sam remarked, “You’re vegetarian.”

A blonde waitress pulled their attentions when she arrived with a platter of edibles. Her hair was twisted and clamped by a comb at the back of her head, and she said something in French that rippled through the air. Sam picked up something that looked like a cracker with an oyster on it. “ _Bonjour_. How are you?”

She smiled politely with a returned, “Bonjour,” and left the table.

Sam was too busy staring to see Irene’s jaw open beside him. When she erupted, “Oh my god!” and fell into a fit of giggles, Sam’s head swiveled around, dumbstruck by the sound.

“What?”

“She doesn’t speak English, you dummy!” she continued to laugh, but it broke into a cough she caught with her elbow. “I mean, points for effort, I guess.”

She went back to adding brown into her crease while he held to his bravado, leaning an elbow on the table to be more on her level. “You don’t actually _need_  to speak the same language for some things.”

“Yeah, but it tends to help,” she scoffed. But her tone melted in the wake of her amused and apologetic grin. “Strike and a miss, Sam.”

She was moving on to her other eye when he declared, “Let’s ignore for a moment that those are the same thing and—”

“Victor?” Nadine interrupted.

Irene and Sam turned to Victor, who blinked as if he had held his eyes open for too long. Nadine grasped his shoulder. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he recovered. He looked into his glass. “I think I’ll, uh…get a seltzer with this. And eat something.”

Chloe held up a mascara tube, to which Irene grimaced and shook her head. She showed no regard for her pants by cleaning the brush on them. Taking Chloe’s golden highlighter without being prompted, she used the brush to wash the rest of her eyelids in translucent, glistening gold. With a heave of air, she was finished.

“Four minutes,” Chloe timed. “I’m…bothered by how impressed I am.”

“Maybe we should be more impressed by Sullivan not having a stroke, and speed things along,” Nadine curtailed while Irene left the table.

“You’re right, but that means Sam, you’re the one keeping an eye on things. Can you handle both of them—” Chloe’s hand landed on…the table, not her clutch. Her gaze shot up. “That little shit.”

Sam laughed while Nadine smirked, “Losing your touch. We better move fast before all of us devolve into fools.”

“I’m doing fine,” Sam said.

“So long as you keep your eyes off the waitresses,” she countered. “Chloe and I will find the water closets and slip out from there.”

They dispersed, Chloe and Nadine going at different times to the bathroom and Sam meeting Sullivan at the bar. “Our job starts now,” he said by way of greeting. Victor took the cue and discretely popped an earpiece into his ear. Sam reclined against the bar, only to perk up, “She’s here.”

Victor did not need to turn around. Everyone, even the bartenders, was reacting to their hostess entering the room. “Of course she is. Never one for an entrance, but she never goes unnoticed.”

* * * * * * *

Chloe shut the linen closet with the guard inside as Sam whispered through her earpiece, _“You ladies left just in time. Francine just walked in.”_

“Aw,” Chloe whispered as she joined Nadine, who was opening a window. “What a shame. Get her a drink for us.”

_“I’d rather not stick my hand in the lion’s mouth, thanks.”_

“No woman likes a coward, Sam,” Nadine’s velvet tone entered.

_“We can still trade places and you can get Francine Madeleine a drink.”_

“We’re already outside.”

Chloe picked up, “Goodness knows how many vaults they have tucked away in this place, but the blueprints you got show something under the house.”

_“Thank you, internet,”_  Sam chimed.

“We’ll be looking for a closer entrance from out here first. This could take some time.”

Victor’s voice could be heard as he exclaimed, _“Holy hell. Sam look.”_

_“Oh…shit. Goddamn shit.”_

“Sam? What’s happening?” Chloe asked.

To Victor, Sam hissed, _“She has no idea who Francine is.”_

Victor answered Chloe, _“It’s no big deal…Irene has just been spotted by the matriarch, is all.”_

* * * * * * *

Irene found the blonde waitress on the terrace. With the clutch pinned between her arm and body, she gave the woman enough room to see her without knocking her tray. _“Excuse me,”_  she asked in French. _“Would you know if there’s anything downstairs that’s vegetarian?”_

“I speak English, if that is easier,” she smiled.

Irene’s eyes widened, “Oh! You do? My Italian’s better than my French, but…sorry about the man earlier.”

She laughed. “It is no problem. He was polite, at least.”

Irene’s smile lifted on one side. “I suppose you’re used to being around rude people.”

“It is not so bad. They are busier looking at shiny things than at me. Your friend is…cute, if I may say.”

A silly grin was pulling at Irene’s face. “You can. He certainly thinks the same of you…” She shrugged, “If you ever have a spare minute to talk to a guest, he’s a nice one to try.”

The waitress’s polite demeanor slid into something coquettish. “I may do that. Or I may find you.”

Irene’s jaw outright dropped. Then she picked it back up with a coy, “Oh, he already doesn’t deserve you.”

She laughed but her head tilted at the sight of Irene’s smile fading. “I’m afraid he’s your better option tonight.”

Far from put off, the waitress nodded. “Alright.” They strolled back inside together, where Irene took the last glass off her tray—

“You have beautiful laughter, miss.”

Irene’s features softened. “So do you.”

With a final shared gaze between them, the waitress went to replenish her tray, and Irene looked down into the contents of her glass—

_“Miss who?”_  came a dignified voice in French.

Irene looked up into the face of a woman with white and silver hair worn in an elaborate twist behind her head, but that was not to say she had aged badly. She wore a gown that did not have sleeves, but off the shoulder golden vines. Her breasts swelled within the sweetheart neckline, but the dress was lush, grey velvet that shined like a frond of pussy willow; pale white and grey that was almost blue. The woman wore the biggest diamond Irene had ever seen on her finger, with contrastingly modest teardrop diamonds dangling from her ears, and nothing obstructed the incredible view of her elegant collarbones and chest.

Irene stared dumbly. The woman was certainly the most beautiful timber wolf Irene had ever seen. _“Irene. My name is Irene, ma’am.”_

Her silver head tilted. _“I asked for your last name.”_

_“It’s not important.”_

The only reaction she received was the woman’s lashes lowering slightly. “Your French is shit,” she stated before sipping her champagne.

That was a knock to the face, but it cleared Irene’s daze. “Well, between my French and your attitude, we’d better not associate. Don’t let me spoil your evening.”

“Stay.”

Irene lifted an eyebrow. “Are you used to commanding people like dogs?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “Because you see, here names mean a great deal. Mine is Francine Madeleine du Lioncourt.”

The name sank into absolutely nothing. After a moment of staring at each other, Irene wavered, “Pleased to meet you?”

Francine’s demeanor changed and she set her glass on the table. “How did you get into my house?”

“An invitation.”

“Show it to me.”

Out of her trousers, she withdrew her invitation and set it on the table. Francine lifted her own brow and pursed her lips. “And yet you’ve never heard my name.”

“Maybe it’s a generational gap—don’t get bent,” she added when Francine’s head turned with surprise. “There’s no point in being upset with how many years you have. And in your case, it’s something to brag about.”

Francine almost looked amused. Almost. “You know how to salvage your own mess.”

A new voice replied, “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

Francine reacted to Victor’s arrival with both fond recognition and unhappy annoyance. “Victor Sullivan. Now she makes sense.”

“Now, now. I have an invitation too.”

“Which was not sent to you,” she agreed. Francine fixed her sharp blue eyes on Irene. “The thing about names, Irene, is that they mean something. Victor Sullivan’s, for example, is rather known for impropriety, charm, and letting in the disaster that dismantled the Rossi Estate. Which you seem to have also let into my home.”

Irene saw Francine’s eyes looking beyond her, and rotated to find Sam leaning against the terrace doorway. He came to stand with her as Francine crooned, “Samuel Drake.”

“I’ve never had the pleasure,” he returned.

“No,” she smirked, “too busy with prison. You know how to make a spectacular reentrance into society, though. And you provided me with a new house at a discount.”

Victor piqued, “You bought the Rossi Estate?”

“Of course I bought it,” she retorted. “It’s a stunning estate on the Italian coast; a property the likes of which we will never see again—that is, until I renovate the destruction you boys caused. Is your brother scampering around my home?”

Sam took a moment to inhale as he set his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and took Irene’s untouched glass. “He’s not here.”

“Nathan’s out of the business,” Victor seconded.

“Mmm,” Francine hummed. “How rare.”

Victor dropped the end of his cigar into his finished glass and likewise gave it to a passing waiter. “So you kicking us out or throwing us in your dungeon?”

“We stopped using dungeons in the seventies,” she purred. She pressed her lips to the same lipstick print every time she drank.

“The torturing kind, at least,” a different voice replied. Victor and Francine, who stood of equal height, pivoted to let a new woman at their table. Her silver hair was cut into a stylish bob, but her freckly skin suggested it had once been red. Her pencil dress was sapphire silk with quarter sleeves off the shoulder.

Irene peered between the two women as Francine introduced, “Margaret Rook. My late husband’s sister.”

Victor welcomed, “Achanté,” while he accepted her hand to kiss its back. Francine’s eyes never left Margaret.

When the woman’s green eyes found hers, Irene smiled, “You two are beautiful matching.”

For the second time, Francine’s head tilted with a mixture of surprise and affront. Then a third, as Margaret left her side to come around Sullivan and stand beside Irene. The air caught in Irene’s throat when Margaret took her hand and shook it. “It’s so nice seeing fresh faces! The lions keep such drab company.”

She looked at Sam, who took the cue to offer his hand. “Sam,” he smiled, “and you don’t look so bad.”

“Flattery does take one miles,” she chortled.

Behind her, Victor leaned toward Francine to murmur, “Didn’t you have a daughter named Irene?”

Francine smiled. If ice could burn, Sullivan would have been ash in her gaze. “A dead one, yes.”

Whether it was Francine’s reaction that radiated to her partner, or perhaps Margaret heard, but the latter lifted her voice to capture Irene and Sam’s attention when their heads began to turn. “Which items do you have your eyes on?”

“None,” she exhaled, winded by whatever energy moved around the table too fast to catch.

“No?” Margaret doubted. “You are unique. Private wars have been started to get inside the Lioncourts’ collection. Now here we are with items up for auction, practically being given away. It is a momentous occasion.”

Irene’s eyes darkened. “I hold different standards in what amounts to value.”

Margaret turned contemplative. “You are an old soul.”

Deadpan, Irene replied, “Oh. My therapist calls it Dysthymia.”

The woman’s brows furrowed. “I am not familiar with that term.”

Just by Irene’s inhalation, Sam knew a gallon of sass was about to spill out. He pushed champagne to his lips and threw his glass back to finish the contents.

“It’s an older term for Persistent Depression. It’s lovely. A side effect is _crippling_  anxiety.” She smiled.

Sam coughed deep in his chest, earning a slow side look from Irene. It was all he could do to swallow and clear his throat.

Francine’s eyes narrowed, not with insult but rather intrigue. “It is not the usual advice to unveil weaknesses upon strangers.”

Irene’s tired gaze dragged up to her. “In my experience, the subject of mental health clears a room. I call it a screening tactic.”

A more genuine smile curved Francine’s lips. “You’re a sharp one. Good. Men don’t like sharp women. It’s a knife they can’t control.”

Irene’s weight shifted. “Well this knife’s going to go eat her weight in grapes, since that’s all I see that I can eat.”

Francine chortled, “Are you a bird? Stay. Something can be brought to you—”

Sam’s brow furrowed as Irene’s nose began to wrinkle. For a frozen second, she met his eyes, and then doubled over in a sneeze. And then another and another. Her face reddened, her eyes watering as she lifted a hand to catch her sneezes. Sam peered around at the puzzled and disgusted attention she was drawing, quickly pulling her by the waist to the terrace as he explained, “She’s a vegetarian and recovering from the flu. And clearly a cactus when she’s hungry.”

He pushed her ahead of him while Margaret exclaimed, “Oh! Of course we have dietary options. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks,” he piped, and disappeared from view outside. He turned to Irene, “Are you all right…” only to see her scratch under her nose and gaze up at him.

“You have things to do, right?”

Sam gaped, “That…that was the best fake sneezing I have ever seen!”

Irene smirked but it did not quite reach her eyes. “Thanks. I’m not sure how to get Victor out of there, though.”

“Oh, he can handle himself. You’ve done enough.”

* * * * * * *

“There’s nothing here,” Nadine murmured, both angry and incredulous as they looked around the cellar.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I said this might take a while,” Chloe hushed as she stepped back through the high security door. It was almost two feet thick but not equipped with an animatronic lock. It had taken her less than two minutes to open.

“No. No, I don’t like this,” Nadine insisted as they ascended the stairs and scaled back onto the roof. “There were hardly any guards as we came this way.”

“Because most of them are attending the party.”

“It has been my experience that you leave a trail of men behind you to slow the progress of anyone following you. In other words, follow the trail of soldiers. This isn’t a path at all. We’re in the wrong place.”

Chloe sighed and took a moment to catch her breath to say, “Sam. How are things inside?”

_“Well. We’re not dead. Francine’s girlfriend took a shine to Irene. I’m busy.”_

The women peered at each other. “Busy?”

Chloe shrugged, and dropped down to an empty terrace for a leap across to another roof—

She landed but her foot slipped. Nadine flew over her, landed, and reached for her other hand. “Shit—wait. Shush.”

“Huh?” Chloe breathed, not wanting to hang from a ledge any longer than she had to. But she tucked her jaw to look underneath her, where a line of men, armor and firearms glistening like beetles, were rushing through the alleyway of the estate.

* * * * * * *

Irene slowly approached one of the plinths. She had seen it as if from a dream, and felt her feet move toward it slowly, as if waiting for the mirage to transform an oasis back into a desert.

Margaret held up a tiny plate with risotto. “Do you like rice?”

Irene blinked, not realizing she was there. It took her another moment to gaze between Margaret and the offered plate. “It’s my favorite,” she murmured.

She accepted the dish but did nothing else. Margaret pivoted to gaze upon the display case she had found. A box large enough to hold a deck of cards stood inside it, with alternating white and blue lights bouncing off the blue opal tiles. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? No one’s ever seen such large pieces of opal, or so many. Blue—”

“Fire opals.”

Margaret peered at her. “You’re familiar?”

Irene inhaled, and sighed, “Unfortunately.”

Margaret wore a rueful expression. “Why unfortunate? It is a beautiful stone. An old piece like this, with such dark blue, fiery green, and even orange flecks, is impossible to come by ever again. With the improvements in resin and glitter, such things are easy to replicate, but the real thing…it is unimaginable.”

The back of Irene’s throat was sore. Her features pinched with distaste before she wiped her features with stoicism. “Thank you for the food.”

She returned to the table Chloe had chosen and set the plate down. She spooned a morsel of rice, but was not quite able to lift it to her mouth. A breeze carrying the smell of night lifted her gaze, and Irene left the plate to return to the terrace.

Her gaze pulled to the side, recognizing Sam’s baritone. She leaned over the stone balcony for her eyes to follow the terrace around the building, and saw a glimpse of blonde hair. Allowing herself a brief smile, she turned in the other direction to begin her stroll—

Sam appeared beside her with a definite lift to his step. “Thank you.”

“Huh?” He held up a slip of napkin, which he then pushed into his interior pocket. The side of her mouth pulled up at the splash of numbers. “Congratulations.”

His glee simmered down. “What’s the matter?”

Irene looked out over the vineyard. “I don’t feel well.”

“Did you eat? Margaret said she was handling it for you.”

“Yeah, she gave me something.”

He leaned back against the balcony beside her. “Nadine and Chloe will be done soon enough. Worst case scenario is you wait in the car until the auction is over, and then all that glitters is moved out of their boxes, and we strike… Until then, come look at this.”

She followed his path with a frown. He glanced back. “Come on!”

She swayed into stride with some reluctance, and met him beside one of the plinths. “Do you know what this is?”

“A diamond, if the boulder on Francine’s hand is anything to go by,” Irene murmured.

“Not just any diamond,” Sam narrated. “This is the Hortensia Diamond. This little darling was worn by Louis the fourteenth, and Napoleon Bonaparte; although it’s named for Napoleon’s step-daughter, the Queen of Holland.”

Sam heaved a sigh as he shook his head at the diamond. “Twenty carats, stolen through war, hidden in an attic, and now supposedly safe and sound in the Louvre. But it’s right here.”

Irene was looking at Sam, watching him speak. “Did you use that big brain to impress the waitress?”

His brows rose and fell. “I should be using it to find our next lead in here.” He glanced around them. “But, to be honest, it’s unlikely to be here at all.”

“What?” she exclaimed in a little above a whisper.

They both rotated to face each other. Sam gestured with his hand while he said, “If you tell Chloe, Nadine, or Sullivan this, I will lie through my teeth—”

“How many times do I have to stress that I don’t care about any treasure? You idiots can’t even name what you’re looking for.”

“Fair point,” his head bobbed to the side. “This entire thing is a crapshoot. First it was these Chinese, blue opal earrings Chloe found, then we were in a cathedral in Brazil…”

Irene stared at him. “What is the connection between opal earrings and a Brazilian church?”

His hands settled by his sides and he replied, “Phantom—the guys in black who were with us in the caves. One of their guys took the earrings from Chloe, and they showed up right after we found the ring in the church.” He tapped his thumb to the finger wearing the gold ring. “And then the house, but whatever was there, they must have won that one. But as you can see…the only guys wearing black here are for muscle and food. Phantom’s not here, and I dragged all of you here just so I could see this rock.”

Irene huffed a laugh. “It sounds like you need a library.”

Sam gave her a self-indulgent look. “Who needs a library when there’s the internet?”

They both looked down at the diamond, Sam speaking while Irene gazed through the glass at the blue illuminated one across the room. “I told them the same merchant sold this diamond as the jewels in the cathedral. Tavernier never held this diamond—”

“Nadine’s here.”

Sam saw where she was looking, and likewise saw Nadine and Chloe heading toward them. “They don’t look like women who’ve found a clue to riches, do they?”

“Nope,” Irene agreed.

They waited for Chloe and Nadine to maneuver through the crowd, and congregated around the plinth. “Phantom’s here,” Chloe said, out of breath.

“More than we’ve ever seen,” Nadine confirmed.

“That doesn’t sound like they’re waiting for the auction,” Sam deduced, but his eyes were bright. “What are they here for? You didn’t follow them?”

Chloe laughed with her hands on her hips. “It crossed my mind, but I’m more of the idea to establish a plan to get the hell out of here. Sam, there are _hundreds_  of phantoms swarming the grounds right now.”

His expression faltered. “Then we’re surrounded. Why didn’t you use the mics?”

Nadine answered, “Because when this thing goes down, you bastards will need all the help you can get.”

“Aw, Nadine, you came back for us. Sweet.”

“Shut the hell up. You,” she directed at Irene, “find Sullivan. He’s the most likely to get us a car, and you need to stay out of the way.”

Without a word, Irene left. She found Victor on the other side of the gallery, still with Francine Madeleine. She hesitated beside a display containing an overflowing plate of pearls of every color. Francine was not exactly an ally, but she did like her houses…

She strode up and murmured to him, “Phantom’s here.”

He broke his line of conversation with Francine. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

Irene shrugged, “Chloe said she saw hundreds of them. The property’s covered.”

“What are you two hissing about?” Francine cut in.

Irene’s gaze snapped to hers. “We’re saying how good it is that you bought a new house, because this one’s about to get fucked.”

Francine was expressionless. Victor heaved a breath and cleared his throat. “I…reckon you know something about an organization called Phantom?”

Her eyes flicked to him. “Who doesn’t? And they’re on my doorstep? Then I’ll just have to wait to meet them.”

Irene did not hide her frown as she peered between them. “That’s rather nonchalant,” she clipped.

The woman’s chuckle was like silk rippling over water. “Do you think this is the first war my grounds have seen?”

Whatever look was on Irene’s face, it prompted Sullivan to grasp her arm in warning. “I think your guests will be fending for themselves,” she growled, stepping back out of his hand.

She strode through clusters of people before either of them could change otherwise. Irene saw Nadine coming from the other direction and moved to one side as they both passed the opal box. Nadine eyed her through the glass…as the azure light washed over Irene’s face. Her amber irises were flushed with blue as her sculpted features gazed down at the box. For a moment, Nadine saw someone else entirely.


	8. To Hell in a Ball Gown

Nadine stood dazed for a long second. Victor’s approach yanked her out of her reverie. “If Phantom’s got firepower all over this joint, then our best chance of escape is—Woah, hey, what’s the matter?”

Nadine gripped his arm and pulled him behind a table. “When you were ill earlier, you were looking at Irene, weren’t you?”

“What? Nadine, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m old. Having a section of the food pyramid be expensive liquor is catching up to me, that’s all—”

Nadine released him with an impatient sound and marched across the gallery to pinch Sam’s elbow, right at the pressure point. He grimaced silently, letting her drag him to the terrace before he twisted his arm out of her hand. “You need to never do that again.”

“She looks like Rafe.”

“What? What are you talking about?” he said raggedly, shaking his arm free from the pain.

“Irene. Looks. Like. Rafe,” she seethed. “I don’t know how they’re related but—”

“Hold hold hold the hell on,” he lifted his hands against the barrage of accusation. “Where is this coming from?”

“Imagine her with pale eyes. They have the same features.”

Sam shook his head. “Brown hair and small ears? Nadine, he didn’t have any siblings, or any family other than his parents. He was an only child and a millionaire. That was his whole problem. He had everything with no competition and he was still an asshole.”

Nadine opened her mouth to say more but he cut her off, “ _But—_ but, let’s just analyze this for a minute, okay? Irene is nothing like Rafe, and she’s never touched this world: black market, goons with guns—you saw how she reacted to us defending ourselves. You can’t fake that. I mean, goddamn, she had never heard of Francine Madeleine until ten minutes ago. What Adler would use their phone case as a wallet instead of some expensive designer option? You remember that Colt he had with the mother of pearl handles?”

“Of course I do, because I have it. But if she _is_ ,” Nadine combatted, “this would mean we need to watch ourselves. We’re the closest ones responsible for Rafe’s death.”

He leaned back for a moment of patience. “Nadine, it’s fine if you’re feeling delayed guilt at leaving him on Avery’s ship, but keep it to yourself. Also, I’ve mentioned Rafe around her already, and she acted like she didn’t know him.”

“You’re putting a hell of a lot of faith in her honesty,” she cornered. “How do you know her name really is ‘Irene’?”

“I don’t, but I’ve never really been picky when it comes to people faking their names. Either way, she’s way too beautiful to be related to Rafe. We need to be figuring a way out of here, or better yet, what Phantom is here to grab.”

He began looking back inside but lurched when Nadine jabbed a hard finger against his chest. “You’re right, so you better keep your eyes on the task and not women, Drake. We don’t _have_  to bring her along at all. She’s only here because Chloe prefers keeping an eye on her. Otherwise the sooner her usefulness expires, the sooner we’ll be able to drop the deadweight.”

The corners of Sam’s mouth turned down as he absorbed all that. He lowered his head in ascent and she strode inside to find Chloe. He otherwise leaned against the doorway, scanning the room until he found Irene near Sullivan.

Her head swiveled to him when his hand touched the middle of her back. “I need your help getting Victor outside.”

Her eyes wandered before she admitted dubiously, “What do I do?”

“Just sit tight for a minute. I’ll talk to him and then you’ll follow us.”

“Okay…are guests not allowed to return to their cars?”

“A phantom might intercept him before he gets there.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“We’re parked around the side of the building, next to the gardens. He’ll be able to make it once we get him to the closest exit.”

Irene rotated to better face him. “If Phantom has this place surrounded, they’ll be watching the cars.”

“You’re right, but he doesn’t need to be noticed to get inside one of them. He can handle himself at that point.”

He gave the people around them a once over before catching her eyes. He nodded in a way to ask again if she was game, and she returned it. While Sam went to transfer their details to Victor, Irene looked out over the balcony at the floor below—

“He is quite handsome.”

Irene frowned at Margaret once again beside her, and followed her eyes toward Sam. “Nice bones,” she replied, more like a question. _What the hell do you want?_

Margaret heard it and faced her with a kind expression. “I was just noticing that the two of you match as well.”

More puzzled than ever, Irene glanced down at herself and up at Sam. “Sort of? It’s easy to match when you’re wearing black.”

“Black silk from the same designer,” Margaret corrected. Irene was entirely blank so she elaborated, “I have an…obsession for this sort of thing. Some people like paintings. I like couture.”

“Congratulations.”

Margaret wore a perplexed yet amused smirk before her eyes narrowed onto the small scrape on Irene’s cheek. “I didn’t notice this before. What happened?”

“I fell.”

She did not pry further, but her pause warranted a desire for more information. “Well, I am glad less of you was harmed. I didn’t notice it because your skin is glowing. I must know what foundation you use.”

“Skincare. And actually, I should touch up. Where’s the restroom?”

Surprise marked the woman’s features as she pointed. “Through the corridor in that corner.”

“Thank you,” she finished while her eyes flicked over her shoulder. Sam and Victor were peering at her with varying reactions. Sam looked impatient. Victor looked nervous.

_You’ll have to follow me, Sam,_  she pleaded internally, hoping the angle of her jaw as she turned around would transmit something of the message.

The corridor was dark and lit by small bulbs in ornate sconces on the walls. With the commotion of the large room funneling into the hallway, it felt like she had disappeared into a cavernous restaurant with enough Michelin stars to account for the dim lighting. A moment later, Victor appeared. “This is not the ideal side of the building to be on.”

“Margaret cornered me. What was I supposed to do?”

Victor acquiesced with a laugh, “Yeah, Margaret’s the talkative one and Francine is the murderous one.”

Sam arrived pulling on his bowtie and undoing the top button. “I reckon Chloe and Nadine already knocked a couple guards out of our way, so let’s keep that luck going.”

The corridor fed into a new hallway, this one with a line of rooms on the left and a stairwell on the right. Victor warned, “Keep your eyes open. They may already be in the house.”

Before descending, however, Sam opened a closet beside the window on the landing. Sam’s breathy laugh contrasted the jump in Irene’s heart rate at the sight of the unconscious man within. “What’d I say? It’s strange for Chloe to leave him armed, though.”

Victor guessed, “Must not have wanted to raise a fuss, if he woke up and someone was running around with his firearm.”

“Yeah, so much for that,” Sam remarked as he took the gun out of the black holster… “Wait a minute.”

He moved the dinner jacket aside to remove something else on the belt, and he lifted a metal cylinder for them to see. “A suppressor. Now why would a guard, who everyone knows is armed, go to the effort of silencing his gun?”

He went ahead and screwed it on as they traversed the stairs. Irene suggested, “Francine was not surprised when she heard Phantom was here.”

“Then she knows better than we do what they’re after. Damn it,” he complained.

“You’re not bothered that we’re all sitting in a trap?”

“It’s not a trap for us,” Sam defended.

“It’s not a trap set by Francine anymore if Phantom has the numbers and the guards can get knocked out by Chloe.”

They crouched at a door with a windowpane. Sullivan scanned the area outside before unlocking the door. Sam followed as he replied, “Don’t worry about it. Victor got us in without a hitch. I’m sure—”

Irene gasped the same time she yanked his forearm up. Above them, a black-armored sniper was peering down from where he hung in a harness bolted into the underside of the roof. Sam shot him in the face, and had a second’s warning before the man hung upside-down, dropping his firearm. Irene made a clumsy sound as Sam both knocked her out of the way and squashed her against the side of the house.

“Good eye,” he exclaimed.

_“Ow,”_  she pushed his weight off.

Victor picked up the sniper’s weapon. “Alright, I’ll take this so I can cover you on your way out. But with Margaret keeping an eye on Irene, you two better get back to the ballroom another way. The vineyard’s our way out of here, but don’t expect nothin’ but grapes out there.”

“Just make yourself known when we need you,” Sam agreed. “You good out here?”

Victor was analyzing the firearm and a solid metallic sound was heard as he handled it familiarly. “Swell.”

He went one way while Sam and Irene snuck around the house. The latter looked at Sam when they both smelled it: cigarette smoke. “The kitchen must be this way,” he whispered.

They peered over and around a pile of barrels, viewing one of the catering staff enjoying his break. In one hand was his cigarette, and in the other was a bottle of water. Irene looked to Sam—

He was strolling right around the barrels and punched the man on the corner between his eye and temple. _“One punch?”_  she exclaimed, admittedly impressed.

“Civilians are softer,” Sam japed, plucking the cigarette off the brick and taking a drag while he pulled the man under a nearby covered walkway, where he would be shrouded in shadow. He rotated to see Irene draining the bottle of water.

She swallowed and croaked, “What?” and dumped it into the waste bin topped with an ashtray beside the kitchen door.

Sam shook his head and exhaled, “Nothing. Just thought of somethin’.”

He crouched to relieve the unconscious man of his box of cigarettes. “Oh good. I don’t have to deal with rolling ‘em myself.”

“Sam.”

“What?” he returned. “You wanna talk about how you threw away my cigarettes when you took off my clothes?”

“Are we doing this now?”

He exhaled a last time and pressed the filter into the ashtray. “We’ll save it for later. After you. Just act like we…” He held the door for her, but they found the vast stonewall kitchen empty. “Okay. Eerie. Chloe.”

_“Is Victor outside?”_  she replied into his ear.

“Yeah, but what’s going on upstairs?”

_“Nothing, yet. Why?”_

“We’re coming back in through the kitchen and the place is empty.”

_“The party must be close to getting started. Where do we need to be?”_

“Victor’s using the vineyard as our personal highway.”

_“Not a bad idea. Let’s just hope an actual motorway presents itself at the end of it.”_

“Hold on, is there any extra security around one of the auction items?”

There was a pause while she scanned the ballroom. _“Not that I can make out. Look, we’re cutting this real close, here. We need to figure out what they want, and then clear out. We can get the bloody item later, under relatively safer circumstances.”_

Sam transferred the details to Irene, who looked as dubious as ever, but ready. “Tell me honestly: are you guys actually good at this job?”

He made a face. “ _Yes_  we are. The best in the business, actually.”

“What’s the highest you’ve gotten?” she challenged while they approached a deep alcove in the hallway. A Corinthian plinth stood in it with a vase of purple wisteria fronds and dark spires of branches.

“Over four hundred million.”

Irene had been looking at the unique bouquet, and her stride faltered. “You’re joking—”

It was good she had slowed down, because Sam stopped on a dime and drew them into the alcove. “Guards. Two of ‘em coming from the end of the hall.”

“Then we go back—”

“They’re already in the corridor. It’s a wonder the kitchen door wasn’t guarded. This is our best shot. There were vents in the kitchen that you can reach if you move one of the counters over while I distract them.”

Irene frowned. “And you?”

“I’ll think of something. The vents here are too small for me.”

“I can’t leave you to get taken by these guys!” she hissed.

Sam slowly wore a strange smile. “I have an idea…” he hesitated. “If we walked out there with me covered in lipstick, they wouldn’t immediately take us for—”

“That’s a terrible idea, Sam,” she declared. He glanced at the click of Chloe’s clutch purse in her hands and then back into the corridor. He was running out of time for ideas.

“I’m all ears if you got—What? What are you—?” he exclaimed as her silken gloves touched his face.

“Get down here!” she ordered, and yanked him right to her mouth. Sam blinked as her lips moved across his, and then pecked a kiss to his jaw, his neck. She pushed a fresh layer of lipstick across his ear, holding the pinna between her lips before she pointedly met his gaze. “Don’t let the waitress see you like this.”

“Noted.” He scooped an arm around her waist and directed them around the corner. Sam could not help but let the smile pull at his lips as her own arm came around his torso, slid under his jacket, and yanked a bit of his shirt out of his pants. When the guards’ chattering stopped at the sight of them, Sam turned his face into her hair. Irene let her body curve into his, her hair coyly falling over her face as she slowly moved it aside so her lips could be seen to match the marks on Sam’s face.

The guards took the hint. One of them looked amused yet bored, while the other did not hide his gaze roaming over every inch of Irene. The pairs came even with each other, neither saying a word—

Irene saw the guard’s arm move too late. He pinched her ass and a broken sound escaped her as her arm tightened with a jerk around Sam’s waist.

Sam rotated with her on his arm so he was between her and the guards when he murmured, “Hey, asshole.”

Irene stepped hastily back while Sam moved forward, throwing a punch right in the guard’s face.

One hit.

Two.

Three.

Irene ran to the next alcove, and returned swinging the small urn at the second guard. Water and petals washed over the three of them as he fell to the floor with broken shards. The first guard landed beside him. Sam sputtered for a moment and then wiped water from his eye.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “It slipped. I didn’t think it’d be full of water.”

“When in doubt,” Sam began, a smile on his face. “Assume everything of Francine’s is real.”

He knocked the rest of the urn out of her hands in favor of grasping one of them. “Let’s go watch this place go to hell in a ball gown before you run out of pottery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Brown hair and small ears." Sam, the things you notice.


	9. Angels

“You didn’t have to do that.”

It was a round about journey back to the ballroom, but once there, Sam used a shaded corner to correct his shirt. Irene scanned the comings and goings around them while he crooned, “Don’t worry about it. I always enjoy France, despite getting pissed at the French each time.”

Irene looked up when he stepped beside her and finished, “It worked out. I didn’t get hit, and you’re good to have around even if you don’t like guns… Do I look wet?”

Her eyes drifted over him before she gave an apologetic smirk. “If someone’s paying attention. You need to wipe your—”

“Sam,” Chloe arrived. “Did you happen to—what the hell?” She burst out laughing. “I mean, I’m never one to hinder lascivious victories but maybe another time and place, yeah?”

He withdrew the napkin from his jacket to wipe his mouth. “Where’s Irene?”

“What d’you mean? She’s right—she _was_ right here,” Sam exhaled. He spotted her standing near the balcony. Wiping his ear, he approached to ask, “Is my cheek clear?”

“Phantom’s here.”

She spoke in such a murmur that Sam leaned forward. “What?”

Irene began walking backwards from the balcony; Sam’s eyes followed her until he searched for what she saw. It took a long minute before he found it: the guards from the foyer were unconscious or dead, their bodies just visible beyond the doorway.

 _They’re not even hiding them?_ he wondered in disbelief, and then he realized, Phantom did not have to. The room was full of them. Like a pattern standing out in a tapestry, the men disguised in luxury suits were already throughout the room; black tendrils blending in with the security staff and caterers.

“Sam! Stay on this side,” he heard Irene plead behind him.

“Nadine’s over there.” Sam met Chloe’s gaze as he murmured into his microphone, “Tricks. We’re all accounted for over here and it’s about to get real toasty. So, politely, get your ass over here.”

 _"I’ve managed to get one of their ear pieces,"_ she informed. Sam and Chloe peered at each other, sharing a mixture of intrigue and discomfort. _"Get away from the display cases. Now!"_

Gunfire erupted as soon as she finished. Sam, Chloe, and everyone else hit the floors, dived against walls, anything to blindly protect themselves.

Glass sparkled from the floors, and it was done. The music was replaced with fire alarm volume for the security breach, but as Sam looked between the balustrades to the floor below, a man—the last calm man in the room who did not have a gun—touched something like a phone in his hand. The speakers went silent.

“Good evening,” the man declared. He did not need to raise his voice. “Do not be alarmed more than necessary. I’m here for a specific item, and then I’ll be on my way.”

All eyes watched him ascend one of the staircases to the surrounding gallery. The phantoms likewise began to move, each one giving an item a once over. Sam and Chloe eyed the few who were on the second floor. A large blond, strolling among the diamonds, flicked his gaze over each one, and then his eyes lifted to Irene. A soft smirk lifted the corner of his lips. She felt a javelin in her chest.

He continued along the gallery floor while his boss began speaking again. “There is so often trouble that gets in the way. Individual greed. People trying to be heroes. A spark of thought in a stupid brain causes the wrong leap of bravery—”

As if on cue, someone moved, and was promptly executed. Sam tilted his gaze at Chloe, who felt his eyes and flicked her own to his briefly. The man, not as tall as Sam but certainly wearing a finer suit, had dark hair that coiled it big loops. Gold pins sparked off the light, holding the forefront curls against one side of his head and out of the way.

Sam watched him move around the opposite side of the room, until he stopped at a case still alternately glowing with white and blue light. He lifted the black velvet plate inside it, holding the box on top as he checked the underside, and then discarded the velvet. “So few protection measures for something so fine…that’s well enough…”

A rumbling had begun to vibrate the room, and after a moment, a new round of soldiers filed in on both levels. Coming to stand along the walls, they lifted their guns above the crouching guests’ heads. Francine Madeleine stepped into view. She began speaking French, to which the man replied in kind. From her place against the top floor wall, Irene listened as best she could, but it did not make much sense to her.

_“So the crow seeks to out-do the lions? Or are you an eagle?”_

Julius laughed. _“You’re flattering me, but the lions were already bested by an eagle, weren’t they? There is only one lion, now, and she is as beautiful as she is old. You lost a long time ago. Why should an eagle ever fear the lion? And when crows are smarter than eagles…well, this is a wasted conversation.”_

Sam and Chloe used the interlude to sneak toward one another.

“Two layers of guys packing serious heat,” he whispered.

“I don’t understand where these lions came from,” Chloe glanced at the Lioncourt security force. “Were they hiding out in the maze all this time?”

“I don’t care where they came from, I care about where they’re going. We need to be on the other side of them to reach the terrace.”

He dared to raise his head an extra inch to get their bearings. Nadine was not far from the guy calling the shots, but Irene…

Irene was against the wall. A line of soldiers stood between her and the three of them. Sam ducked his head, finding her between the forest of legs clothed in fatigues. “Next time, we’re giving her an ear piece.”

Chloe followed his line of sight and replied, “We don’t necessarily need her help because the lions won’t be aiming for guests, and there are more phantoms on that side of the house. How much are we willing to gamble that the lions have already cleared out our side of the property?”

“We’re on the side of the maze,” Sam reminded. “We need to be on the side of the vineyard.”

She nodded, “And we need these bloody soldiers to move. I suppose we ought to catalyze things.”

“I don’t know what that means but I am partial to waiting for Phantom to leave.”

“Do you really think _Francine Madeleine_ is going to just let them go? The bloody queen of the top-shelf black market trade, billionaire bitch who could murder a monarch and get thanked for it? This place is going ablaze, and it doesn’t matter how. We all just need to be on the right side of the gunfire. Nadine, you catch all that?”

 _“We need them to start attacking each other,”_ she whispered. _“I’m too surrounded. You’ve got guns?”_

Chloe looked at Sam, who smirked, “Yeah, we’ve got guns.”

_“Then one of you shoot a phantom, the other shoot a lion, and let’s get the hell on with this.”_

So they did. Using each other’s bodies for concealment, Chloe shot a guard near Francine while Sam managed to take down a bespectacled phantom standing in front of their leader.

War confined to a room was pandemonium.

Sam and Chloe followed their instincts to press their faces to the floor and cover their heads. Both were cursing but they could not hear themselves, let alone each other. Boots thundered around them as lions moved towards the center of the room.

“GO! GO!” Sam bellowed. He and Chloe shot up and ran through them to the terrace. Sam spared a moment to stop and search for Irene, incredulous at finding her back at the banister. Much to her surprise, he turned her pelvis, and lifted her over his shoulder. “The hell are you doing? Come on!”

“S-Sam!” she croaked. “I can’t breathe!”

Irene lurched back on her feet over the terrace. Chloe was already swinging their legs over the stone railing; she lowered herself as far as she could, and dropped down into the garden. Irene and Sam followed suit, replacing their feet with their hands so they dangled over—

Irene slipped off the tile to land feet-then-ass below. Sam dropped beside her, only to throw his hands up to protect his head. “It might have occurred to you to take the silk gloves off?”

Bullets peppered around them as lions and phantoms sought to make sure no one was leaving the house without permission. Sam hid behind a marble slab holding up the first in a long line of towering winged statues, but a flash in his peripherals made him stare, dumbfounded.

Irene ran among the angels, the avenue lined with statues on either side barely protecting her as bullets cut into the flagstones, wings, and tranquil faces.

Chloe exclaimed, “She’s getting herself killed!”

But Sam realized they were ever so briefly clear of gunfire. “She’s opening a path for us! Let’s go!”

“Bigger guns!” Chloe declared, and Sam understood. Between them and Irene, were two dozen firearms. Disarming the men at the rear was easy; Chloe reached one first, threw the automatic rifle to Sam and knocking him out in one go. He locked it into his shoulder, taking cover behind an angel as he aimed at the men closest to Irene.

One.

Two.

The trigger stuck, giving him pause. “Shit. I need more ammo than this!”

“Then get your own bloody rifle!” Chloe snapped. She ducked while Sam swung the weapon like a bat at one of the guards who had returned his attention to them. Her eyes flashed on what he dropped. “Ooh, don’t mind if I do.”

A line of guards and phantoms fell as Chloe littered the garden with bullets. Sam ran behind her, picking up a handgun and ammunition for the rifle as he went. He saw Irene dash underneath a domed gazebo, and startled her as his back landed against the same slab of concrete. “Fuck,” she heaved raggedly.

“Gesundheit,” he chirped, a second before her silk pants slipped out from under her and he shot a phantom coming through the other side of the gazebo. Sam flinched against the hard spray on his face and realized a bullet had struck where Irene’s head previously was. “The angels are on your side,” he voiced with no small amount of incredulity.

“Is that what you call them?” she remarked, and moved to the other side of the structure with Sam on her heels.

“I prefer optimism in a gunfight.”

Ignoring him, she pointed over the hedges and a fountain blocking their way to the vineyards. “We have a lot of mayhem to cross—”

And then, right before their eyes, the side of the house broke off in one jagged piece, landing in front of them. Irene and Sam stared dumbly at Nadine running over the innovative ramp with a grenade launcher over her shoulder. “MOVE!”

The chaos of the house flooded into the garden. Chloe was immediately beside them, she and Sam guarding their progress up to the wall, and over the other side—

Before Sam could drop down, he was thrown onto his back, staring up into a phantom who’d had his helmet removed—

His head lurched, and he fell backward. In Sam’s hear, he heard, _“Get a move on, kid.”_

“Thank you, Victor,” Sam grit, out of breath. Once more on the ground, he spotted Sullivan with the sniper rifle poised on the roof of his car. It was not long before bullets began finding their way to him, but Nadine got the back seat open, and one by one, they threw themselves into the vehicle.

“Wait! No—” Nadine coughed as Chloe landed in her lap, Sam smashed against her, followed by Irene, and then Victor rearranged them as he drove madly through the groves. The four of them knocked together before Irene had the maneuverability to climb out of all of their laps and join Sullivan in the front seat.

Chloe gratefully slid in between Nadine and Sam to voice, “Well. Not too bad. Apart from the auction being an utter failure.”

“They’re going to Tuscany,” Nadine said. Sam and Chloe simultaneously stared at her. “What? Neither of you idiots read the description cards in the cases? That box is from a temple outside of Siena.”

“And we can trust that?” Sam wondered.

Chloe shrugged. “I’m game for spring in Italy. It’s worth a try.”

**Author's Note:**

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